


Wanderlust

by ashisverymuchonfire



Series: Wanderlust [1]
Category: Bandom, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, Exes, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Road Trips, Smut, Summer, a lot of this idk what to tag lmao, kellic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 00:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisverymuchonfire/pseuds/ashisverymuchonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>wanderlust [WON-der-luhst]</em>
  <br/>
  <em>n.,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about</em>
</p><p>One day, Kellin decides to escape his Oregon hometown by taking a one-man trip to California. While there, he doesn’t plan for his car to get stolen by a devious ex. He doesn’t plan on having to follow smart-ass clues to get it back. He doesn’t plan on enlisting the help of a hurricane named Vic Fuentes. And Kellin certainly doesn’t plan on falling in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hate This Fucking Town

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, another fic. This story seems a bit ridiculous and lighthearted at first, but just a little warning, there are some sad/dark things in here, and of course there is also smut.
> 
> Another thing: There won’t be any switching POVs in this fic like in some of my others; it will all be told through Kellin’s POV.
> 
> Enjoy!

I feel like I’m going to explode.  
  
I’ve only been awake for five minutes, and I already can’t take it. Surrounding me is the same old house in the same old town with the same old people. I am sitting at the same old table, alone, eating the same old breakfast and watching the same old morning news. Usually, I’d be going to my same old job at some random shop or something, but I quit yesterday because I just couldn’t stand it any longer. (Plus, it’s Saturday anyways.) These are the joys—yeah, right—of a mundane, normal lifestyle.  
  
I’m fucking sick of it.  
  
I’m sick of my routine. I’m sick of not knowing what I’m doing with my life. I’m sick of being alone. I’m sick of simply  _existing_.  
  
Suddenly, it dawns on me what I need to do: I need to act on my boredom.  
  
With that, I decide that I am going to go somewhere—hopefully not too far, but far enough—and I am going to do something I’ll remember.  
  
Normally, I’d plan out something like this first. I’d figure out exactly where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do, how I was going to do it—but not today. Today, I don’t want to know specifics. I just want to get out.  
  
I know I need to have a general destination, though, so I open up my laptop and look up a list of U.S. states, figuring that I want to stay within the country. Then I call my best (and only) friend, Matty.  
  
"Hello?" he answers groggily.  
  
"Matty!" I say. "So, listen."  
  
"Kellin? What time is it?"  
  
I glance at the digital clock in the corner of my laptop screen. “Uh, 9:32.”  
  
He groans. “Dude, you know I don’t like waking up before ten when I don’t have to. This better be important.”  
  
"It’s very important. Don’t ask why, but I need you to give me a letter of the alphabet."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"I just told you not to ask me why!"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Whoops. Sorry. Still not quite awake yet. Uh…I don’t know, man. C?"  
  
_C._  There are three states that start with the letter C.  
  
"Okay, that’ll be good. Thanks!"  
  
Matty laughs. “You are so weird,” he says, and then he hangs up.  
  
Without wasting any time, I head across the kitchen to the “junk drawer” (admit it, every house has one). After a moment of digging around, I pull out a random die numbered one to six.  
  
_Okay,_  I think to myself.  _One and two for Colorado, three and four for Connecticut, and five and six for California._  
  
I toss it onto the floor. It rolls a five.  
  
Out loud, I say, “Well, California it is.” Then I give my house a two-fingered salute, in the hopes that I can kiss my uneventful, trivial life goodbye.  
  
—  
  
The drive proves to be incredibly boring. After only twenty minutes in the car, I decide to call Matty again.  
  
"Are you going to ask me for a number this time?" he says. "Because if so, my answer is seven."  
  
"No, I just need someone to talk to. Tell me, how far south do you think I should go?"  
  
"South where?"  
  
"South to California. Think I should go all the way to San Diego? I want to."  
  
"Wait, why are you going to California?"  
  
"Because you picked C."  
  
He sighs. “Oh my God. Did you seriously use me to choose your next vacation spot?”  
  
"Well, it  _is_  June. And I  _did_  just quit my job, which means I have nowhere to be until I get a new one.”  
  
"That also means that you’re probably low on money as it is, so you should not be spending it on going to California."  
  
"I’m not low on money, dude. In case you’ve forgotten, my parents are somewhat rich, and they kind of gave me some of their money."  
  
"I have two things to say to that. One, your parents are assholes."  
  
"I am aware of this."  
  
"Two, that money’s not gonna last forever."  
  
"I am also aware of this. Come on, Matty. I just need a break from everything."  
  
"Okay, okay. I get it. You’re having an existential crisis."  
  
"Am not," I argue, like a little kid.  
  
"Are too," he shoots back.  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"It is  _not_  an existential crisis, Matty. It is merely a simple quarter-life crisis. It’s just that I am twenty-one years old and still have no idea what to do with my life. What if I joined a band?”  
  
"Instruments fall apart in your fingers."  
  
"I can sing."  
  
He laughs a little. “Okay, whatever. Look—I’ve gotta go now, so I’ll talk to you later.”  
  
"Wait! Should I go to San Diego, or…?"  
  
"Uh, sure?"  
  
"Okay, thanks. Bye."  
  
I enter San Diego into my GPS. It says that it’ll take me about thirteen hours—maybe twelve and a half—to get there, and I sigh loudly. I guess I’ll have to find something to do.  
  
—  
  
About four hours later, just as I’m running out of car games to play with myself, my phone rings. But it’s not Matty; it’s my younger sister Lily.  
  
Lily doesn’t really talk to me much anymore—then again, she doesn’t really talk to anyone much anymore—so it’s kind of strange that she’s calling me.  _What if something happened with Ethan?_  I wonder, and my heart starts beating faster. I don’t even like to think Ethan’s name, let alone hear it mentioned.  
  
I pick up my phone. “Lily? Did something happen?”  
  
She laughs a little. “What? No. I just called to say hi, since I know I’ve kind of been ignoring you. Whatcha up to?”  
  
I let out a breath of relief. “I’m taking a trip down to San Diego.”  
  
"Really? Why?"  
  
"Because I can," I reply. "Can you talk to me for a while? I’ve still got, like, eight or nine hours left and I am incredibly bored."  
  
"Sure, whatever. Do you know what you’re going to do when you get to San Diego?"  
  
Well, there’s one thing I haven’t thought about get. “Uh, not really,” I say. “Something big. Something I’ll remember years from now. I’m not sure what that is.”  
  
"Well, do you have any ideas?"  
  
That’s how we come to be bouncing ridiculous situations off of each other, joking about singing karaoke and crashing a wedding and jumping into a giant fountain. I don’t see this side of Lily often—this funny, cheerful side—and I embrace it for as long as possible.  
  
Inevitably, though, Lily tells me that she has to go. So we hang up, and then I’m alone again, left to entertain myself for the rest of the trip.  
  
I end up calling Matty for the third time later, and for a while we just talk about nothing. When I’m not doing that, I’m busy either singing to myself, making fun of radio shows, or looking for license plates from different places. (There has been a surprisingly large amount from Florida.)  
  
Finally, after many tolls, pit stops, and hours of nearly going insane from boredom, I find myself in San Diego. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s a lot more interesting than anywhere in Oregon. Because it’s close to midnight, I decide to find a hotel and call it a day. I still haven’t come up with what earth-shattering thing I plan to do here, but that is a problem for tomorrow. I think it’s about time I’m allowed to procrastinate.  
  
—  
  
For the first time in far too long, I wake up actually feeling excited. Nothing is happening today that makes me want to stay in bed longer just so I can avoid it. Today I am in California. Today is, as cliché as it sounds, the first day of the rest of my life.  
  
I do not normally think of myself as an optimist. (In fact, most of the time it’s quite the opposite, since the world just loves throwing all of its shit at me. I’ve kind of come to expect it.) This whole vacation thing seems to be proving me wrong, though. What other plot twists await me? Maybe I’ll turn out to be straight.  
  
Ha. Good one, Kellin.  
  
Because I’m not sure where to go and I really don’t care, I call Matty to get his opinion.  
  
"Kellin," he says, "what did I say yesterday about the ten o’clock rule?"  
  
"This is important," I insist. "Today, should I go to the beach or out into the city?"  
  
He snorts. “You know, I can’t make  _all_  of your decisions for you.”  
  
"Please, Matty?"  
  
"Fine. The beach."  
  
"Okay, thanks!" Then I hang up, leaving him to his sleeping while I head out.  
  
I drive from my hotel to a nearby beach and park in the lot. It’s a bit early, so there aren’t that many people out here yet. The sun has already risen by now, but it’s still low in the sky, casting a soft orange light over everything. I’m making my way through the sand and along the coast when I notice some quiet guitar playing, accompanied a few seconds later by a voice singing.  
  
A bit farther down from where I’m standing, only a few feet away, there’s a guy sitting alone on a beach towel, strumming an acoustic guitar as his lips move. Obviously, he’s the source of the music, and I find myself torn between stepping forward and staying where I am. I want to get closer, but I don’t want to interrupt him.  
  
_Come on, Kellin,_  I think to myself.  _Maybe he’ll like that someone’s enjoying it._  So with that, I start walking towards him.  
  
As I get closer, I take him in a little bit more. He looks about my age, with tan skin and long, dark hair. He seems completely focused on what he’s doing—he doesn’t look up for anything—and his voice is…well, kind of flawless.  
  
I stay back a little to give him some space. I don’t say anything until the song is over, but once it is, I take a step up and tell him, “That was really good.”  
  
He looks up at me, caught off-guard. “Really? I didn’t think anyone was listening.” He gives me a little half-smile.  
  
"Yeah, really," I say. "I, uh…you’re really talented."  
  
He smiles wider and looks away, his hair falling into his face. “Thanks.”  
  
That’s probably my cue to walk away, but I don’t really want to. I want to talk to this guy more. He seems interesting. (Then again, that might just be my raging homosexuality talking.)  
  
"Uh…I’m Kellin," I say awkwardly, mentally searching for a conversation starter.  
  
"Vic," the guy replies, setting his guitar down and shifting over a little to make space on his beach towel. "You can sit if you want. Unless, y’know, you’ve got somewhere to be."  
  
"I don’t have anywhere to be," I tell him, taking him up on his offer and sitting down next to him. "Decided to give myself a little vacation."  
  
He laughs a little. “Where are you from?”  
  
"Oregon. What about you?"  
  
"I live here. Well, not  _here_  here, like not at the beach, but…” He laughs again, at himself. “Duh, Vic. It’d be kind of hard to live at the beach.”  
  
"I know what you meant," I say, smiling at him.  
  
He nods at his guitar. “So, do you play?”  
  
I shake my head, suddenly embarrassed. “Nah. As my friend Matty says, instruments fall apart in my fingers.”  
  
"I’d better keep this away from you, then," he teases, pushing the guitar away. "What about singing? I think you have a nice voice."  
  
I snort. “You’ve only been talking to me for two minutes.”  
  
"Who says I can’t make an impression in two minutes?" Vic sticks his tongue out. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting with me.  
  
"Good point. I do sing, actually. But I—"  
  
I’m cut off by my phone ringing. I groan.  
  
"Think you should take that?" Vic asks.  
  
I pull the phone out, almost dropping it when I recognize the number on the screen. “Uh…yeah,” I say slowly. “Hold on a minute.”  
  
_What the fuck does my ex-girlfriend want from me?_  
  
"Hello?" I say. "Bree?"  
  
"Hello, Kellin," Bree says. "I haven’t heard from you in a while."  
  
"What do you want?" I demand.  
  
"Tsk, tsk. So impatient." I can’t see her, but I can just imagine the smirk on her lips. "I want you to go back to the parking lot and check your car. I left you a little something."  
  
"Wait, wait. How the hell do you know where I am?"  
  
"Matty," she sings. "That’s beside the point, though. Just go." Then she hangs up.  
  
"Well,  _that_  didn’t sound good,” Vic says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I don’t think it is," I say, standing up. "I’ll be right back. I have to check something."  
  
I run back up to the parking lot, my eyes scanning for my silver car. But here’s the thing: It’s gone. It’s not anywhere in this place. And right where I parked it, there is nothing but a folded piece of paper.  
  
"What the hell," I mutter, picking it up and unfolding it. And this is what I find, scrawled on it in Bree’s unmistakable handwriting:  
  
_Well, Kellin, it seems that your car is nowhere to be found. What a shame. I wonder who could’ve taken it. Oh, that’s right—me.  
  
Don’t worry. You can get it back. In fact, I want you to. But only if you can catch me.  
  
Let me explain: I will be placing clues in seven different cities all across America, starting with this clue. Your job will be to find them, go to the cities, and complete multiple tasks at each one. I suggest that you find someone whose car you can borrow for this journey.  
  
Also, for each city, I will give you a song to tell you what city you’re headed to. For most of them, the answer will be in the title.  
  
Now that that’s all said and done, here is your first clue:  
  
Stay at a casino/hotel named after the second layer of Earth’s atmosphere. Write something on your forehead. Make it big and noticeable. Then go on the SkyJump.  
Song: “Vegas Lights” by Panic! at the Disco_  
  
I can’t believe what I’m reading.  
  
Bree stole my car. She stole my car, and I know better than to think she’s kidding about anything she wrote in this note. She is exactly the type of person to do something so crazy. I’ll be damned if I don’t chase after her.  
  
Part of me wonders if that car is even worth it. But then there’s another part of me that is strangely excited by this. It’s a plot twist. It’s story material. It’s something I’ll probably remember years from now.  
  
And then there’s the part of me that realizes that if I don’t do this, Bree will just find another way to get her revenge.  
  
But whose car will I borrow?  
  
An idea follows that question almost immediately.  
  
I run back down to the beach, where Vic is still sitting. He looks up when he sees me. “So, what’s going on?”  
  
I take a deep breath. “I think I’m gonna need your help with something.”


	2. Take Me By the Hand, Take Me Somewhere New

“She’s completely serious, isn’t she?”  
  
Vic is staring at me in disbelief as he says this. I’ve just explained everything to him, and now he holds the note in his hand, his eyes darting from it back to me.  
  
I nod. “Afraid so.”  
  
He stands up. “That’s so fucked. And she expects you to just go with it?”  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
He reads over the note again. “So we’re going to Vegas, then?”  
  
"Uh…yeah," I say, surprised that he’s even agreeing to help me. "Looks like it."  
  
Vic grabs his guitar with one hand and his beach towel with the other. “Well, then,” he says casually, as if this is something that happens every day. “We’d better start packing.”  
  
—  
  
Unfortunately, I put everything that I brought with me on this trip in my car, which, obviously, is not available. The only things I have with me are my phone, my wallet, and the clothes on my back.  
  
"Well, you could either go shopping for some new clothes or borrow some of mine," Vic says when I tell him this. We’re sitting in his car, and he is driving us back to his house.  
  
"Uh, I’ll just go shopping," I tell him. "I’ve got money."  
  
Vic nods but stops at the bank anyways. “This might be a bit of an expensive trip,” he says.  
  
While in the car, I try to call Bree back, mostly to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing. But apparently, the number she called me with only half an hour ago has been disconnected, so I call Matty again.  
  
"Dude, you have  _got_  to get more friends,” he teases. “You just can’t stop calling. I think you’re in love with me.”  
  
"You wish," I reply. "So guess what, Matty? Don’t ask why, but I’m going to Vegas. And, like, six other places."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
I laugh. “I just told you not to ask me why. But yeah, it looks like I’m going on a road trip. I’ll give you updates on how this whole thing goes.”  
  
"What whole thing?"  
  
"My ex-girlfriend’s revenge."  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
After that, we go to Vic’s house, which has a few other cars parked around it. “Uh, do you have company over or something?” I ask as we park on the street right next to it.  
  
"Yeah, my brother and his boyfriend are here. They come over a lot, so it’s almost like they live with us—me and my friend, that is."  
  
"You live with a friend?"  
  
He nods. “Yep. We’re just friends, though. It’s more fun that way, having a roommate. A hell of a lot better than living alone.”  
  
"Ain’t that the truth," I agree.  
  
Vic hops out of the car, and I follow him. When we step inside, I see a skinny guy with tattoos and a lip ring sitting on the living room couch, playing a video game on the TV. Briefly, he looks up and says, “Who’s the new guy?”  
  
"This is Kellin," Vic says, nodding to me. "Kellin, this is my brother, Mike."  
  
"What about a new guy?" says a guy with spiky hair, popping his head out from the top of the staircase. When he sees me, he yells, "Tony! We’ve got a live one!"  
  
"Um," I say. "What’s that supposed to mean?"  
  
Spiky Hair rushes down the stairs, followed by a guy who must be Tony. Vic holds his hands up. “Whoa there, Jaime!” he says to Spiky Hair. “This isn’t what you think. I’m just helping him with something.”  
  
“ _Helping_  him with something,” Mike says suggestively.  
  
"His ex stole his car and we’re going on a road trip to get it back," Vic says. "I don’t have time to explain everything. I’m packing, and he’s going shopping."  
  
Tony raises his eyebrows, looking like he’s about 5000% done with Vic’s shit, before shaking his head and walking away, through a doorway that I assume leads to a kitchen of some sort. “Vic, you have officially gone off the deep end,” he calls back.  
  
"We all knew this day would come," Jaime adds, sitting down on the couch. "But I thought you’d have at least a few years left."  
  
Vic rolls his eyes and turns to me. “They treat me like I’m a head case. Even Mike—who, by the way, is my”—he raises his voice, staring pointedly at Mike—“ _younger_  brother!”  
  
"Shut the fuck up," Mike says casually.  
  
"Are they used to weird things like this happening?" I ask. They all seem so relaxed.  
  
"When it comes to me, yes. Like I said, they treat me like a head case. But now that that’s all over, we might as well get started."  
  
With that, I take Vic’s car and head out to buy some new clothes. I don’t know how long this trip is going to take, so I buy four sets, all the while thinking about how absurd this whole thing is. My mind drifts to Vic and his friends, and I can’t help but wonder what the whole head case thing was about. He’s not crazy, is he? He doesn’t really seem like it, but I don’t exactly want to spend my time alone in a car with a maniac.  
  
While I’m out, Matty calls me back, demanding to know why I’m going to Vegas and what I meant by “my ex-girlfriend’s revenge”. I try to explain everything, which, once I manage to convince him that I’m not making it all up, results in many frantic questions and the proclamation that Bree is a grade-A fuckplant. I can barely respond because I’m laughing too hard at the word “fuckplant” (which earns me some really strange looks from people who probably think I’m insane).  
  
Once I calm down, Matty asks, “Well, if you don’t have a car, how are you gonna do it? Whose are you gonna borrow?”  
  
"Well, uh…I met a guy."  
  
"Oh, no. He’s probably a serial killer, Kells."  
  
"I’ll take my chances."  
  
After assuring him that I’ll be fine, Matty makes me promise to call him at least every time we switch to a different city, and then he hangs up.  
  
When I come back to the house, Mike is still playing his game, only now Tony has joined him. Jaime and Vic aren’t here.  
  
"Where’s Vic?" I say.  
  
"Upstairs, in his room," Mike says without even glancing my way. "The bedroom on the right."  
  
I nod and make my way up the stairs. On the left, there’s a hallway leading to some other rooms. On the right, there’s a doorway, which must lead to Vic’s room. The door is closed, and I can hear voices coming from the other side—Vic’s and Jaime’s voices, to be exact.  
  
"I just think it’s a bad idea," Jaime is saying.  
  
"Well,  _I_  think that I’m not listening to you,” Vic replies smoothly.  
  
"Vic, think about it for a second. Really think about it. Think about all the things that could go wrong. When he gets back, tell him that he’s gotta find someone else to help him with his little predicament."  
  
"No. Jesus Christ, nothing’s gonna go wrong. Don’t you think I deserve a little break from things?"  
  
I can’t help but compare them to me and Matty.  
  
"Well, you can get a break without going on a road trip with a stranger," Jaime says.  
  
"He’s not a stranger," Vic snaps.  
  
"Oh, no," Jaime groans. Even through the door, I can hear him smacking his forehead. "I see what you’re doing, Vic. Fucking hell."  
  
"What? What am I doing?"  
  
Jaime sighs. “Nothing. Just…whatever. Do what you want.”  
  
I hear footsteps, which makes me realize that he’s about to open the door and catch me eavesdropping. I grab the knob and push into the room, nearly running right into him.  
  
"Oh, hey," I say casually. "I’m back."  
  
After a moment of surprise, Jaime smiles. “Hi,” he says. “I was just leaving, so, uh…you and Vic can figure things out, I guess.” With that, he brushes past me and out of the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
I turn to Vic, who is sitting on his bed with his laptop. “Did you pack?”  
  
"Yep," he says, nodding toward a black suitcase resting on the floor next to the bed. "I’ve got a suitcase you can borrow. But come here for a sec—I know where we’re going."  
  
I shrug and set my shopping bags down, then stand at the edge of the bed and glance over his shoulder at the screen.  
  
"The clue said that we’d be going to a place named after the second layer of the earth’s atmosphere," Vic says. "Well, the second layer of the earth’s atmosphere is the stratosphere. So I looked it up based on the song, and sure enough, here we go." He points at the screen, which shows the official website for a hotel in Las Vegas called the Stratosphere.  
  
"That’s pretty smart," I say. "When are we leaving?"  
  
He shrugs. “Whenever, I guess. Not gonna waste any time on this, are we?”  
  
"No way." After a short pause, I add, "Why are you helping me, anyways?"  
  
Vic shrugs. “Because you needed help.”  
  
I laugh a little. “Yeah, but this isn’t exactly your usual favor. Why would you go through all this trouble for someone you just met?”  
  
He shrugs again, returning his attention to his laptop. “I don’t know. You seemed…nice.” He types something, and a few seconds later, he says, “According to Google Maps, it’ll take about five or six hours to get to Vegas.”  
  
I groan loudly. “ _Nooooo_. More long car rides.”  
  
Vic smiles up at me. “At least you won’t be alone this time.”  
  
—  
  
And then we’re off, speeding down the highway with the windows down. “What kind of music do you like?” Vic asks.  
  
"Mostly punk or rock," I reply. "You know, that sort of stuff."  
  
"Fantastic." Vic plugs his phone into the car with a cable, opens up his music library, and presses "Shuffle", letting Fall Out Boy take over and blast out of the speakers.  
  
"We’re like emo warriors," I say. "Chasing down evil exes while Fall Out Boy plays in the background."  
  
"Well, we might as well make the most of this drive." Then Vic starts loudly singing along: " _Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman_!”  
  
“ _And maybe he won’t find out what I know_ ,” I jump in. “ _You were the last good thing about this part of town_!”  
  
When we’re not doing that, we’re talking. Some people are just so interesting to talk to, and Vic turns out to be one of those people. Whenever I mention something he loves, I can tell that he loves it because his whole face lights up and he starts talking faster and more enthusiastically. He’s got a lot of stories, too. Before I know it, the sun has gone down and hours have passed.  
  
"Holy fuck," I say, glancing at the GPS. "How are we only, like, ten miles from Vegas?"  
  
"I hate to be ridiculously corny," Vic says, "but…time flies when you’re having fun. So, uh…looks like you’re having fun."  
  
"I am," I admit. "You’re so…interesting. And I’m just…ehh."  
  
Shit. I didn’t mean to let that thought out.  
  
"You’re not  _ehh_ ,” Vic says, mimicking my voice. But he doesn’t seem to know how to follow that up, how to support his statement, so he doesn’t. He just says, “We should probably pay attention to where we’re going now.”  
  
With that, we drive into the lights of Las Vegas. “I missed this,” Vic says, a faint smile on his lips.  
  
"I’ve never been here before," I say, feeling inexperienced and, again, completely uninteresting.  
  
"I’ve only been here once," Vic replies, as if sensing my thoughts. "So I’m not really an expert."  
  
As we make our way down the strip, I notice a tall, thin, lit-up tower and immediately recognize it from looking at it on Vic’s laptop. I point at it. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that that’s the Stratosphere.”  
  
Vic nods. “Yeah, that’s it.”  
  
So we park in the parking lot, grab our things, and head inside to the lobby. Vic made our reservations on the drive over here (which is when I learned that his last name is Fuentes), and before long, we’ve got a key and are heading up to our room. “Fucking expensive,” Vic mutters while we’re in the elevator.  
  
"Sorry," I say. "I should’ve paid for it."  
  
He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Really.” The funny thing is, he actually sounds like he means it.  
  
"How many beds are there?" I ask casually, as an embarrassing thought pops into my head: Oh my  _God, what if I end up sleeping with this guy?_  
  
"Two," Vic says.  
  
"Oh, okay."  
  
"You sound disappointed," he teases.  
  
I snort. “Yeah, you wish.”  
  
Vic sticks his tongue out at me, as natural as it would be if we’d known each other for years.  
  
As soon as we step into the room, I set my suitcase down on one of the beds and pull out the note. It says that after we reach this place, I’m supposed to draw something on my forehead and then ride the SkyJump.  
  
"Hey, Vic," I say, "do you know what the SkyJump is?"  
  
Vic sets his own suitcase down next to the other bed. “Yeah, I read about it. Apparently, it’s this thing where you basically jump off of the top of this tower.”  
  
"You  _what_?”  
  
"With a harness, I’m pretty sure," he adds. "The note says you have to do it, right?"  
  
"Yep," I say, biting my lip and looking away. I hate heights. Bree knows that.  
  
"Well, it’s kind of late," Vic points out. "So we could maybe just get some dinner and go to sleep, and then we’ll do it in the morning. I think we have to reserve a spot on that, too, so I’ll do that."  
  
"Uh, okay," I say. "Where are we going for dinner?"  
  
He smiles a little. “It’s called Top of the World.”  
  
—  
  
As it turns out, Top of the World is a restaurant in the Stratosphere—at the very top. There are large glass windows so that we can see out all across the city, and it rotates, too. We’re over eight hundred feet high, or so Vic tells me, but it doesn’t really scare me as much because of the barrier. It looks pretty cool, actually, especially at night.  
  
"I think we dressed a little casual for this," Vic mutters. We’ve just been seated at a table with two chairs across from each other, and our waitress has just taken our food orders and brought us our drinks.  
  
Vic has a point—we’re both still in our shorts and t-shirts. In fact, these are the clothes that I slept in, and suddenly I realize that, in my rush to leave Oregon, I didn’t even shower this morning. People can probably smell it, too. Gross, Kellin. Ever heard of this thing called  _hygiene_?  
  
"Do you think people are gonna notice?" I ask.  
  
Vic glances around, and I do, too. Sure enough, there are some people giving us weird looks. Everyone looks dressed up—more than we are, at least. I can’t help but feel out of place.  
  
"Yeah, I think people are noticing," Vic says, sighing. "Some of them might think we’re dating or something, too."  
  
A guy walking past us wrinkles his nose at us. I’m not sure if it’s because we look like bums or because we look like we’re boyfriends.  
  
"Probably," I agree.  
  
"So," Vic says, changing the subject, "what possessed you to come all the way down to San Diego? You mentioned something about giving yourself a vacation."  
  
I shrug. “Yeah, that was mostly because I was bored. I wanted to go somewhere new and exciting, and San Diego seemed new and exciting.”  
  
"Huh. What were you bored with? Just…life?"  
  
"Pretty much. I still don’t even know what I want to do with it. I should’ve just gone to college for law or something."  
  
Vic shakes his head. “Bad idea. I did that, and it really didn’t work. I hated it, so it basically turned into constant torture. You want to get a good education, but not for something that makes you want to jump off a cliff. So I dropped out.”  
  
"You dropped out of college?"  
  
He nods. “I decided that I didn’t want to waste my life doing something I didn’t enjoy doing. So, yeah. I’ve been in a few bands since then.”  
  
"You’ve been in actual bands?" From our conversations and even just the way we met, I quickly figured out that Vic loves music, but until now, I didn’t know all the experience he had.  
  
"Yeah. There’s a pretty big punk rock scene in San Diego."  
  
I snort. “Not in Oregon. Not that I know of, anyways. But then again, I never really looked for one.”  
  
"It’s fun. May I ask about your girlfriend?"  
  
“ _Ex_ -girlfriend,” I correct him. “And sure. What about her?”  
  
"Does she do this a lot?"  
  
I laugh. “Yep. I’m not sure why I thought it was a good idea to date an evil genius.”  
  
"Well, did you like her?"  
  
"Not really," I admit. "I only dated her so people wouldn’t think I was…" I shut myself up before I can finish my sentence.  
  
"So people wouldn’t think you were…?" Vic presses.  
  
At that moment, our waitress arrives with our food, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ll have to give her a good tip for that. “Never mind,” I say.  
  
Vic switches the topic again—he seems to do that a lot. It looks like he’s always got something to say, but it’s not in an annoying way, and I find myself having a more enjoyable conversation with him than I’ve had with people I’ve known for years. Funny how that works.  
  
—  
  
When I wake up the next morning, I’m confused at first, wondering why I’m not alone in my house, why I’m not even  _in_  my house. Then I turn to see Vic smoking out the window (we chose a smoking room), and everything comes back to me: I left for San Diego. Bree stole my car while I was there. She sent me on a journey with some clues. I dragged Vic along with me.  
  
And— _oh, yeah_ —I have to ride the SkyJump today.  
  
Vic turns around. “You’re awake,” he says. “Hey, what time is it?”  
  
"Look it up yourself, asshole," I tease, but then I glance at the digital clock on the side table. "It’s 8:45. By the way, do you have a marker I could borrow?"  
  
After a quick breakfast and a shower, Vic gives me a black marker, telling me, “I’ll write it for you if you want.”  
  
"Okay," I say, handing the marker back to him. "The note said it has to be big and noticeable. What’s something big and noticeable?"  
  
"Uh…a boner?"  
  
I burst into laughter. “Oh my God.”  
  
After I’ve calmed down, Vic says, “What about your name? That’s obvious enough, I think.”  
  
So Vic writes my name on my forehead in big capital letters, laughing a little. “This whole thing is kind of absurd.”  
  
"You just figured that out?"  
  
He sticks his tongue out at me. He does that a lot, too, it seems. It’s kind of cute.  
  
With that, we head down the hallways to the SkyJump, my heart starting to beat faster at the thought of jumping from the 108th floor (again, or so Vic tells me).  _Harness,_  I remind myself.  _There’ll be a harness.  
  
What if the harness breaks, though?_  
  
"I can’t believe I’m doing this," I whisper, aware of the people staring at my forehead. I must look like a freak. Why the fuck did I agree to any of this?  
  
"I’ll go first if you want me to," Vic offers.  
  
"Thanks," I say, trying not to seem too relieved. "I wonder what this has to do with the next clue. If there even is a next clue. For all we know, Bree could just lead me here and then leave me hanging. She probably wouldn’t, but yeah."  
  
"I guess we’ll just have to find out," Vic says.  
  
As it turns out, it takes a while for each person to get ready before they actually jump. Vic goes first like he promised, so I’m left waiting in a panic as I watch him from the bottom of the tower. He gets into his jump suit (which makes him look kind of like a superhero) and then takes the elevator up with a staff member. I end up walking around the SkyJump store, where they have a TV screen broadcasting the jumping. Oh, great—that means I’m going to be broadcasted, too.  
  
I decide to watch from the SkyJump landing area. After a few minutes of waiting, the screaming starts, and I look up to see a small shape—Vic—taking the plunge and practically yelling his lungs out.  
  
Once he gets to the bottom and takes his harness and jump suit off, he runs over to me, laughing breathlessly. “Oh my God, Kellin, that was great. You’ll love it, trust me.”  
  
"Okay," I say, smiling a little.  
  
And now it’s my turn.  
  
Like Vic, I’m put into a jump suit and taken up to the 108th floor. The staff member makes conversation with me (thankfully not mentioning my forehead), assuring me that he’s done the jump many times and that it really isn’t that frightening. I can feel myself starting to relax—that is, until we reach the top.  
  
I’m given a short safety lesson and strapped into my harness. My heart hammers in my chest when I step out onto the platform and realize just how high 108 floors really is. My harness is checked and tightened countless times as the two staff members guide me to the edge and show me where to put my hands and feet.  
  
"Okay, now put your feet up," one of them is saying, holding onto me by my harness. "I’ve got you, okay?"  
  
"Okay," I say, doing what she says and trying to calm myself down.  
  
My eyes scan the ground below.  _Oh, fuck._  
  
"Now I’m gonna give you a countdown," the girl says, "and you’re gonna let go, alright?"  
  
"Alright," I reply. My voice sounds pretty calm, but in my head, I’m thinking,  _Oh God oh God oh fuck oh my fucking God I’m going to fucking die._  
  
"Three, two, one—go!"  
  
_Fuck fuck fuck shit fucking fuck—_  
  
I let go.  
  
The wind whips around me, and I scream as adrenaline rushes through my body. It’s good screaming, though, and I find myself laughing, too. The fall is fast and feels incredible, and before I know it, I’m back on solid ground, smiling and wondering why the hell I was so afraid.  
  
"Alright, good job!" the girl at the bottom says as she unhooks my harness. Getting a good look at my face, she says, "I’m assuming you’re Kellin?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, that’s me," I say. "Why?"  
  
She hands me a folded slip of paper, and for a moment I don’t recognize what it is. Then she says, “It’s from Bree,” and I nod, remembering. It’s the next clue.  
  
"Thank you," I say.  
  
She smirks a little. “Welcome.”  
  
Vic meets me right after that. “Oh my God, that was fun,” I tell him, holding out the slip of paper. “And I got the next clue.”  
  
"What does it say?" he asks.  
  
"Let’s find out," I say, unfolding it.  
  
_Get wet. Get wild. Ride the Constrictor. Very loudly, tell the lifeguard on top to go fuck himself. (Note: No, not all of these will be thrill rides.)_  
  
"Well then," Vic says. "This should be an…interesting trip."  
  
"If you want to back out, I don’t blame you," I say, staring at the paper and wondering what the hell the Constrictor is.  
  
Vic shakes his head. “No way. You’re stuck with me.”  
  
I shrug. “Well, it looks like we’re in for a pretty wild ride.”


	3. Vegas Lights

“I’m guessing she means the Wet’n’Wild water park,” Vic says.  
  
We’re back in our hotel room with his laptop, trying to decipher Bree’s next clue. (I have just washed off the marker from my forehead.)  
  
"There’s one here in Vegas," he continues, "and they’ve got a water slide called the Constrictor."  
  
"Well, fuck," I say, leaning over his shoulder to see the screen. "I don’t have a bathing suit."  
  
Vic makes a weird face. “I, uh…I brought two.”  
  
Well, this situation couldn’t get much more awkward. “Are they Speedos?”  
  
He laughs a little. “No.”  
  
"Then it looks like I’ll be wearing one of them."  
  
"I think you’d look pretty good in a Speedo." He smirks.  
  
I smack his arm. “Shut up. Only people with great asses can pull off Speedos.” Vic looks like he wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut.  
  
"Where’s your suitcase?" I say. "We’re going to ride the Constrictor."  
  
—  
  
It feels incredibly strange to be wearing someone else’s swimming trunks, but I ignore it the best I can as we drive to the water park.  
  
"So, we’re supposed to…tell the lifeguard to go fuck himself?" Vic says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
I nod. “Yep. I got our clue from the girl at the SkyJump landing area, so this guy must have the next one.”  
  
"Joy," Vic says. "Why is Bree doing this, anyways?"  
  
I shrug. “She really liked me, I guess, back when we were dating. I broke up with her.” I think back to something she said during that conversation. “She said she’d remember me years from then, and not in a good way. This must’ve been what she meant.”  
  
"How long ago did you guys date?"  
  
"Four years," I say. "We were still in high school. In fact, I don’t even think she got a new phone since then, because I recognized her number when she called me yesterday. Well, either that or she kept her old one all these years just for me. I’m kind of known for ignoring calls from numbers I don’t recognize."  
  
"Well, she sure has patience, I’ll give her that," Vic says. "And she really knows how to plan things out."  
  
"Again, evil genius," I say. "Brilliant, but probably crazy. She’s got blue hair, for fuck’s sake."  
  
"I can’t believe we’re practically doing her bidding."  
  
"I can. I think she’s just gonna make this as expensive, tedious, and humiliating as possible for us. Just for a damn car."  
  
"Well, we could go back. Let her keep the car. But that’s your decision—I mean, it’s your car."  
  
I shake my head. “Even if we do that, she’ll find a way to get back at me eventually. We’ll only be postponing the inevitable. I’m just gonna play her game and see what happens.”  
  
Vic nods. “Then we’ll play her game.”  
  
The water park is crowded, but not too crowded. Vic and I take our shirts off, and I can’t help but stare at him, before realizing that I’m probably being way too obvious. Vic doesn’t seem to notice, though, which is good. I can’t make things awkward between us on the second day with my overwhelming gayness.  
  
After only a few minutes, Vic points to a large red-and-yellow tube slide. “That’s it, right there.”  
  
"You found it already?" I ask. I look in the direction that he’s pointing, and sure enough, right next to the slide is a sign that says "Constrictor".  
  
"Yep. Are you gonna be okay for this thing? I mean, I know it’s only a water slide, but I noticed you got pretty nervous earlier when it came to, y’know, heights."  
  
I just can’t seem to stop embarrassing myself, can I?  
  
"Maybe, but come on," I say, trying to convince him not to treat me like a little kid. "After jumping off a building from over eight hundred feet up, I can do anything."  
  
He smiles. “Fantastic,” he says, grabbing my wrist enthusiastically. “Let’s go.”  
  
As we grab a tube and get in line, I blurt, “How old are you?”  
  
"Twenty-one," he replies. "You?"  
  
 _Ha._  We’re the same age. “Twenty-one,” I say. “When’s your birthday?”  
  
"February 10th."  
  
I scowl. “April 24th.”  
  
"Ha!" He sticks his tongue out. "I’m older than you."  
  
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I could probably beat your ass in MarioKart.”  
  
"You wanna bet?"  
  
"I do, actually. As soon as we get the chance, we’re having a showdown. Thirty bucks."  
  
"Deal."  
  
When we reach the top of the slide and are only a few people away from our turn, I catch sight of the lifeguard, a young-looking guy with light brown hair. I nod at him. “I guess that’s our guy,” I say to Vic.  
  
The people right in front of us set their tube down at the beginning of the slide.  _Well,_  I think,  _here goes nothing._  
  
As soon as they push off, Vic sets our tube down. I turn to the lifeguard and speak it quietly, as if it’s a secret code (which, I suppose, it is): “Uh, go fuck yourself.” I hope he doesn’t notice that I stuttered a little bit.  
  
The guy raises an eyebrow. “That was weak, dude.” No doubt he knows who I am.  
  
From behind me, Vic unexpectedly yells, “Go FUCK yourself!”  
  
"Are you Kellin?" the lifeguard asks him. He shakes his head, so the lifeguard turns back to me.  
  
 _Fuck it._  
  
"YEAH!" I scream. "GO FUCKING FUCK YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING DUMBFUCK!"  
  
The lifeguard nods in approval, then raises his voice to all the shocked people watching: “It’s okay, everyone! This was planned!”  
  
At this point, I suddenly become aware of all the younger kids staring at me like I’m the Antichrist. Fuck, I’ve corrupted them.  
  
"Okay, you can go, guys," the lifeguard says to me and Vic, discreetly handing me a piece of paper. "Enjoy your ride!"  
  
Vic and I quickly hop into the tube, him on one side and me on the other. We push off, and as we’re sliding, we burst into laughter. We laugh the whole way down, and even once we reach the bottom, we’re still laughing.  
  
"That was fucking fantastic," Vic gasps once we’re standing on the sidelines of the park. "Oh my God, you just went crazy with it."  
  
"Yeah, at that point, I really gave no fucks. Shall we see what inevitably-degrading task Bree has requested of us this time?" I hold up the paper.  
  
"Yes," Vic says. "Reveal our fate, Kellin."  
  
So I unfold the paper, and we read.  
  
 _Go in. Go out. Get a burger. Slap a worker who goes by Fish. If there’s no one named Fish, you’ve got the wrong place._  
  
“‘Go in. Go out.’ Is that a euphemism for something?” I ask.  
  
"I think she’s talking about In-N-Out Burger," Vic says thoughtfully.  
  
I just stare at him. “How do you figure these things out so quickly?”  
  
He shrugs. “Lucky guesses? Access to the internet?”  
  
I shrug, too. “Well, are we gonna go back to the hotel, then?”  
  
Vic shakes his head. “Hell no. Not yet, at least. We’re getting our money’s worth first.” He takes my hand. “Come on!”  
  
—  
  
I think it’s safe to say that Vic Fuentes is the most exciting person I’ve ever met.  
  
He takes me to nearly every ride in the park, and he does so with the energy level of a young child. It’s almost exhausting, but at the same time, it’s really fun. We stay there until the sun starts to set, and then we head back to the Stratosphere, laughing, with Vic singing “It’s a Beautiful Day” by Michael Bublé. His happiness is infectious, and before I know it, I’m singing along with him.  
  
"Are you always like this?" I ask when we enter our hotel room. My face hurts from smiling so much.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
I shrug. “Like…I don’t know…happy.”  
  
He shakes his head, standing near the bathroom door. “Nah. I’m just feeling really good right now, y’know?”  
  
"Yeah," I say, nodding. "I know what you mean."  
  
We both end up taking another shower (separately, mind you), and then we just hang out for a little as the sky grows dark. While we’re flipping through TV channels, Vic suddenly says, “I want to take you out on the strip.”  
  
I straighten up and turn to face him from where I’m sitting on my bed. “Really?”  
  
He nods. “Yeah. I figured that since we’re here, I mean, we might as well.”  
  
The Stratosphere is at the north end of the strip, so we start from there and just walk. As I told Vic, I’ve never been here before, and it takes my breath away. The buildings are huge, and the whole place lights up. Even the people are interesting—some are street performers, others are dressed up as characters, and the whole scene just feels so  _alive_.  
  
"This is incredible," I breathe, turning to Vic.  
  
He nods, smiling. “I love places like this. Big cities. I mean, look at all these  _lights_.” He shakes his head in wonder, his eyes seeming to brighten with the city. “You could get lost in those fucking lights.”  
  
Anyone else I know would probably laugh at themselves after that, followed by something like, “I probably sound like a stoner right now.” But Vic doesn’t do that. He just stares openly at everything as if he has been blind his whole life and is now finally able to see.  
  
I think that a walk down the Las Vegas Strip would be fun with almost anyone I know, but Vic’s enthusiasm makes everything even better. Even while I’m watching the huge fountains, my gaze sometimes shifts to him, just to see his reactions. Maybe it’s the way the lights shine behind him, or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been drinking a bit of champagne (and so has he), or maybe it’s both, but something makes me look at him and think,  _I probably could not have picked a better person to travel with._  
  
—  
  
"Someday, I’m going to take you all over the country, Kellin. I promise you."  
  
The voice belongs to my boyfriend, Jordan. He’s sitting on one of those wooden bench swings at a park, smoking a cigarette and giving me that familiar half-smile. “You don’t believe me, do you?”  
  
I return his half-smile and sit down next to him. “No, I do, I swear,” I say, laughing a little.  
  
He puts his arm around me. “No, you don’t, asshole,” he teases, throwing his cigarette onto the ground. “But I’ll make you believe.”  
  
I smirk, leaning in close. “Oh? And how are you going to do that?”  
  
He smirks back. “Like this.”  
  
Then he kisses me, long and hard. I tangle my fingers in his soft, light brown hair, but then the hair suddenly seems to disappear, along with his lips and everything else about him. I open my eyes and find that I am now kissing empty air.  
  
I am no longer sitting on a swing in a park. Instead, I’m sitting on a bench in a city. It’s nighttime, so there are lights everywhere, and though it’s quite a sight to see, I still feel panic rising in my chest. Jordan is gone.  
  
I stand up and whip my head around, staring at all the people who walk by, but none of them are the one I’m looking for. “Jordan!” I yell, my voice coming out strained. “Jordan, where are you?”  
  
No one so much as glances at me. I sink to my knees in the middle of the sidewalk, my breath hitching and my face wet with tears. Somehow, I know what this means. I know exactly what this means.  
  
As if on cue, someone taps me on the shoulder, and I look up into a man’s grim face. “He’s gone, kid,” the man says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I wish this didn’t have to happen.”  
  
"No," I rasp, blinking rapidly. Anger flares up inside of me, so I pull my phone out and smash it onto the ground.  
  
"Kellin!"  
  
My eyes fly open, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. There’s a hand on my arm, and I turn to see Vic standing by the edge of my bed with a worried look on his face.  
  
"Kellin," he says, "it was just a dream. It’s okay now. You’re awake."  
  
I nod slowly, still stunned. “I…okay.”  
  
"What was wrong?" he asks softly.  
  
I turn my head away, closing my eyes. “Nothing. It’s done. I’m good now.”  
  
"Kellin," Vic says, in that tone of voice that lets me know he doesn’t believe me.  
  
"It just…it doesn’t matter, okay?"  
  
He sighs. “Fine. But I’m here if you need to talk about it.”  
  
"Okay. What time is it?"  
  
"Uh, 7:54. So eight, basically."  
  
When he walks away, I bury my face with my pillow. Any leftover happiness I might have felt over the excitement of last night has faded away, replaced by a bitterness I thought I’d gotten over. I’ve barely thought about Jordan in months, tried my best to pretend like he never existed, but it seems my subconscious won’t let go of him as easily. The dream is still fresh in my brain, and it serves as a reminder:  _The world hates you, Kell. Remember? Whenever anything good happens, bad comes with it five times worse._  
  
"Hey, Kellin," Vic says, "mind if I light up?"  
  
"Do what you want."  
  
I can hear him pulling a cigarette out of his pack, and it makes me think of my dream. Jordan used to smoke.


	4. Crushcrushcrush

Vic asks me several times if I’m okay. Every time I assure him that I’m fine, but he won’t have any of it, so in the end I give him a little bit of truth: “I’m just kind of stunned from my dream. It was about someone I thought I’d forgotten about.”  
  
He seems to understand then, really understand, and backs off. We don’t talk much for most of the morning. It’s only at lunchtime that Vic says, “So I looked it up—there are three In-N-Out Burgers around here.”  
  
At first I don’t know what he’s talking about, but then I remember the clue, and I nod, eager to forget about Jordan and focus on the reason I’m here. “So how do we know which one is the right one?”  
  
He shrugs. “We don’t. Not until we get there, at least.”  
  
I clap once. “Joy. When are we leaving?”  
  
—  
  
"Bree is going to get me arrested," I say. We’re sitting in the parking lot of one of the In-N-Out Burgers, contemplating whether or not to go in.  
  
"Yeah," Vic agrees, "wouldn’t you get charged with assault or something if you just burst in there and slapped someone?"  
  
I shrug. “Well, whoever this Fish person is, they’re probably expecting it, so maybe not.”  
  
With that, we head inside, my heart beating faster. I should really stop getting nervous about things. (Easier said than done.)  
  
Vic, on the other hand, is completely confident as he strides up to the counter with me trailing behind. (Then again, he isn’t the one who has to slap somebody.) “Is there anyone here named Fish?” he asks.  
  
The guy behind the counter looks confused. “What?”  
  
"Fish," Vic repeats. "I’m looking for a person who works here and goes by Fish."  
  
"Uh, no," the guy says slowly. "I don’t think there’s anyone named Fish here."  
  
"Hey!" Vic calls to the other workers behind the counter. "Anybody who goes by Fish?"  
  
The workers all shake their heads. Vic shrugs and turns to me. “Wrong one, then, I guess.”  
  
"Alright then," I reply. Then we turn and just walk back out, leaving the people inside to wonder what the hell just happened.  
  
"Off to the next one," Vic says when we hop back into the car.  
  
So we head off to the next one.  
  
"You know," I say, "for all we know, one of the people in there could’ve been Fish and they just didn’t say anything."  
  
"I know," Vic replies. "I think we should check out all three places first, and if nobody says anything, we backtrack. Hopefully it won’t be that difficult, though."  
  
I nod, but I’m not really listening to him. I’m listening to my mind say,  _I wonder what Jordan would’ve thought about all this.  
  
Shut the fuck up,_ I tell it as we reach the next In-N-Out Burger. Luckily, it does.  
  
"This should be fun," Vic says, smiling a little in amusement.  
  
I scowl at him. “Let’s just go in and get this one over with.” Then I turn the scowl into a smile, because this whole situation  _is_  pretty amusing.  
  
So we go inside, but this time Vic doesn’t even have to ask for Fish, because according to her name tag, she’s the girl standing right at the front. I can’t help but wonder if that’s her actual name or just a nickname.  
  
Vic and I exchange a glance, and Vic nods in Fish’s direction. I mouth the words “I know” in response.  
  
I walk up to the counter. “Um, Fish?” I say awkwardly.  
  
She looks up at me, raising her eyebrows. “Are you going to slap me?” she asks.  
  
"Uh, yes, actually," I reply.  
  
She stares at me expectantly. And then I slap her.  
  
It really isn’t that hard, but people still take notice. They start yelling and pointing, but Fish just laughs as if this is perfectly normal and gives me a piece of paper. Then she holds her hands up and calls out, “Guys, calm down!  _Calm down_!”  
  
I make a quick getaway with Vic on my heels. Once we hop into the car and speed out of the parking lot, he turns to me and says, “Good job.”  
  
It’s not until we’re back at the hotel that I dare to unfold the piece of paper. “I’m afraid,” I tell Vic, and we both laugh a little. I glance down at the paper in my hands.  
  
 _Freedom!!! In a park!!! With a playground!!!!!  
Song: Salt Lake City - The Beach Boys_  
  
"Uh…I guess that means we’re leaving Vegas?" Vic says, reading the clue over my shoulder.  
  
I shrug. “Apparently. To Salt Lake City we go.”  
  
—  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Matty, hey!" I say over the phone. I’m in the car with Vic, and we are on our way to Salt Lake City. "So we’re out of Vegas. On our way to Salt Lake City now."  
  
"Really? What’d you have to do to get there?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much. Just jump off an eight hundred-foot tower, tell a lifeguard to go fuck himself, and slap someone at an In-N-Out Burger."  
  
"And that was just for Vegas?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"That fuckplant."  
  
I burst into laughter, and Vic gives me a weird look. “Yeah, she’s definitely a fuckplant,” I say. “Whatever the hell that is.” Suddenly, I think of something that Bree said when she first called me. “Hey, Matty, did Bree talk to you or anything before I told you about this?”  
  
"No, why?"  
  
I narrow my eyes. “When I asked her how she knew where I was, she just said you.”  
  
"I didn’t talk to her at all, man, I swear. At this point, I almost completely forgot that she even existed."  
  
I’ve known Matty for years, and he’s my best friend. I can tell when he’s lying, and this is not one of those times. “Well,” I say, “at least now I know you two weren’t scheming against me or something. I guess Bree was lying. But that’s Bree for you.”  
  
Matty laughs. “You know, I’m glad you’re alive, Kell. Does this mean that that guy you met isn’t a serial killer after all?”  
  
"Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m safe. I’ll talk to you later, Matty."  
  
"Yeah, later."  
  
When I hang up, Vic says, “So who is this again? I remember you talking to them on Saturday.”  
  
"Matty. My best friend," I explain.  
  
He nods. “Oh. So you aren’t, like, dating her, then?”  
  
“ _Her_?” I repeat, and then I laugh. “Vic, it’s short for Matthew. And no, I’m not dating him. He wishes.”  
  
"Oh!" Vic laughs, too, and even with his tan skin, his blush isn’t completely hidden. "Oh, wow. I thought it was  _Maddie_ , like, short for Madeline or Madison or something. Okay.”  
  
"Well, while we’re discussing love lives, are you dating anyone?" I ask. I only mean it as a conversation starter, but I find myself genuinely interested in his answer.  
  
He shakes his head. “Nah. I think I’m putting off dating for a while.”  
  
I try to hold back my disappointment.  _It’s for your own good,_  I tell myself. _Get over it, you idiot. It’s just a stupid crush._  
  
"Oh," I say, acting as if I did not just admit to myself that I have a crush on Vic. “Yeah, I think I am, too.”  
  
 _You’re crazy, Kellin,_  I think.  _You’ve only known this guy for a few days. You can’t have a crush on him. It can’t be that easy._  
  
But then, just to hear him talk, I ask him to tell me about his favorite place that he’s ever been to, and I can’t help but hang onto his every word. His face lights up as he talks about London, and even though I’ve never been out of the US, I end up feeling excited, too.  
  
"Well, now that I’ve bored you to death with my talk of places you’ve never been to," he says, "what’s your favorite place?"  
  
"You didn’t bore me," I assure him. "And…I don’t know. My family never really went anywhere. Not that we didn’t have the money to; we just…I don’t know. Mom just loved it in Oregon—God knows why. I think she did all her traveling before she had kids."  
  
"What about your dad?"  
  
I bite my lip. “Dad wasn’t really there to give his opinion on anything.”  
  
"Oh," Vic says, sensing that this is a bit of a touchy subject. "Oh, sorry. I didn’t know—"  
  
"It’s fine," I say quickly. I don’t want his sympathy. I don’t want him to treat me like I’m fragile or helpless.  
  
"Okay." He pulls out a cigarette. "Is it cool if I…?"  
  
"Yeah," I say.  
  
"Are you sure? I don’t want the smoke getting in your face or anything."  
  
"I don’t mind, I swear," I insist, desperate to show him that he doesn’t need to take care of me. I can feel my face heating up, and unfortunately for me, my complexion doesn’t provide me with any coverage like Vic’s does. Automatically, I add, "I’m used to it."  
  
A memory of my dream flashes through my mind, of a cigarette hanging from Jordan’s lips. Thankfully, Vic’s voice breaks through it: “Do you smoke, then?”  
  
I shake my head. “No. But I knew someone who did.”  
  
"I think we all know someone who does," he says. It’s not in a condescending way; he’s just saying it as a fact.  
  
"I know," I say softly, the image of Jordan starting to creep back up on me. "But…"  
  
"Oh," Vic says again. Another touchy subject.  
  
"No, it’s okay," I tell him.  
  
"No, I’m sorry. I should just shut up."  
  
One thing I’ve noticed about Vic is that he always says what’s on his mind—he’s kind of an open book. So I don’t think he’s looking for attention with that last sentence; it’s just what he feels. I want to say,  _No, I like it when you talk because you’re really awesome and funny and interesting and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me on this stupid road trip although I’m kind of glad this happened because you would never want to be near me under normal circumstances and also you’re kind of hot._  
  
But I am not an open book, so I don’t say any of that. I just let him stop talking, light his cigarette, and smoke in silence.  
  
Jordan used to smoke with short puffs, finishing quickly and starting a new cigarette immediately after. Vic is different, taking long, slow drags and making it last. He’s more relaxed, like he doesn’t really give a shit about much of anything. There’s a certain sort of grace to it—the way he holds his cigarette between his middle and index finger, the way he purses his lips and exhales slowly. I can’t help but stare at his mouth.  
  
His phone rings, and he sticks his cigarette between his teeth to answer it. “Hello?” he says, then coughs a little.  
  
Without thinking, I reach out and grab the cigarette from his mouth. “I’ll hold it.”  
  
He glances at me, nods once, and turns his attention back to the person on the phone.  
  
"Huh?" he says. "Mike, I’m fine. Everything’s going fine." Pause. "What’s that supposed to mean?" Pause. "Mike, you don’t have to check up on me. I can take care of myself." Pause. "This has nothing to do with that, okay? I’m just—Mike, listen to me. What are you—Mike.  _Mike_.” He sighs. “Mike, I know. But just—just trust me on this one. Please.” After another tense pause, he says, “Okay, sure. Bye,” and hangs up.  
  
I hand the cigarette back to him with no mention of the phone call. He takes it gratefully and puts it up to his lips for an almost impossibly long time before breathing out and releasing a long trail of smoke. I can see him visibly calm down.  
  
"Sorry about that," he says. "Like I said, they treat me like a head case."  
  
I want to ask him why. But then I remember that it doesn’t matter, that nothing will come of this, that after it’s all over we’ll go our separate ways and live our own lives. I remember that the world is not going to give me a break. So for the rest of the drive, which takes a total of about six or seven hours, we either sit in silence or chat about nothing. If I can help it, that’s the closest we’ll ever get.  
  
—  
  
We find a cheap hotel in Salt Lake City and fall asleep there. When I wake up the next morning—without any dreams this time, thank God—Vic is sitting on his bed with his laptop.  
  
I rub my eyes. “What are you doing?” I ask groggily.  
  
"Trying to figure out where we’re supposed to go," he replies, holding up the clue. "I think I’ve got it." He points to the screen. "One of the main attractions here is Liberty Park. So liberty, like freedom. And it has a playground."  
  
"Fantastic," I say, pulling myself up into a sitting position. "So the clue’s hidden in the Liberty Park playground somewhere? Wonder what parents will think when they see us."  
  
Vic laughs a little. “This should be interesting.”  
  
So after eating breakfast and taking showers, we hop into the car and head off to Liberty Park.  
  
"At least we’re not doing something completely terrifying or embarrassing this time," I say.  
  
"Unless you count all the parents at that park thinking we’re out to get their kids when they see us running around the playground," Vic points out.  
  
I start laughing, covering my face with my hands. “Oh my God, you’re right.”  
  
Liberty Park is pretty big, but we find the playground fairly quickly. After getting a sense of the area (and how many suspicious parents we may run into), Vic and I split up in the hopes that it’ll help us find the clue faster.  
  
The questions come almost immediately: “Sir, what are you doing?” and “Sir, what do you  _think_  you’re doing?” I probably do look ridiculous as I desperately climb all over the equipment, most of which is too small for me (and that’s saying something—I’m pretty small). Little kids nearly crash into me, and I have to watch so I don’t step on anyone’s feet.  
  
Vic is searching the ground below, while I’m up on all the climbing sorts of equipment where most of the kids are, because (according to Vic) I look younger and like less of a threat. (Then again, I’m the one wearing the black skull t-shirt.) I glance down at the ground and find that Vic doesn’t seem to be having much more luck than I am. He looks up at me in the same instant and shakes his head a little, shrugging.  
  
"Did you check the swings?" I call down, ignoring the strange looks sent my way.  
  
"Uh, no," Vic replies, raising an eyebrow as if to ask where a piece of paper could be hidden on a swing set.  
  
"I’ll go check," I say. "Look up here for me. Maybe you’ll find something I missed."  
  
So Vic and I switch places, and I head over to the swing set. A young woman pushing a child on one of the swings turns to me and says, “Are you looking for something?”  
  
"Uh, yeah, actually," I say, narrowing my eyes.  
  
"What’s your name?"  
  
"Um, Kellin."  
  
"Kellin Quinn?"  
  
Now this is getting weird. “How’d you know that?”  
  
She points up to the top of the swing set, where I suddenly notice a piece of paper taped to it and hanging down. It’s not very large, but I can still clearly see words written in Bree’s handwriting:  _If your name is NOT Kellin Quinn, GO AWAY._  
  
"Uh, thanks," I say awkwardly, giving the woman a small smile. The paper is too high up, though, so I turn to the climbing equipment and yell, "Vic!"  
  
Vic pops his head up. “Yeah?”  
  
"It’s over here!"  
  
Vic gives me a thumbs-up and rushes to meet me. “So where is it, the swing set?”  
  
"Yep," I say, turning back to the swings and gesturing to the paper. "I think you’re gonna need to give me a boost or something, though."  
  
"Okay. Get on my back." He says this as if it happens every day.  
  
So I shrug and hop onto his back like he’s going to give me a piggyback ride, and then he maneuvers me underneath the top of the swing set where the paper is hanging. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the woman watching us with interest (or maybe amusement). I reach up and snatch the paper down. “Hallelujah!”  
  
Vic drops me back onto solid ground, holding his hand up. “See that? That’s called teamwork!”  
  
"Teamwork!" I repeat, giving him a high five.  
  
Vic stares at the front of the paper and points at Bree’s note. “Well, now I know your last name. Kellin Quinn. I like it.”  
  
I don’t tell him that it’s technically my middle name. I just smile a little. Something about him knowing it makes me feel special, like we’re closer. Maybe that’s stupid, but whatever.  
  
"Uh, thanks," I say. "Now let’s see what our teamwork earned us." I unfold the slip of paper, and, as usual, Vic reads it over my shoulder.  
  
 _Make out with someone in the gazebo. Doesn’t matter who. Use tongues. It won’t work unless there are tongues._  
  
I think we both stare at it a bit longer than necessary.  
  
I have to  _make out_  with someone. That someone, I quickly realize, will either be a total stranger…or it will be Vic.  
  
Well then.


	5. Falling in Love Will Kill You

Vic makes the Grand Understatement of the Year by saying, “I was  _not_ expecting that one.”  
  
"No shit," I breathe, still staring at the paper in disbelief. "How am I gonna…?"  
  
He shrugs, clearly trying to act natural. “I don’t know. Just…find a pretty girl or something. You’re good-looking. She’ll do it.”  
  
I laugh bitterly. He thinks I’m straight.  
  
"What?" he asks. "I’m not kidding."  
  
"I’m, uh…I’m gay." I look down at the ground, embarrassed. He probably won’t even want to be near me now. He’ll be paranoid that I’ll try to hit on him or something. That’s generally what happens when a straight guy and a gay guy are in the same area.  
  
"Really?" Vic says, seeming genuinely surprised. "But I thought…Bree’s your ex- _girl_ friend…”  
  
"I dated her just so people wouldn’t think I was a gay loser," I explain. "I mean, I  _am_  a gay loser, but they didn’t need to know that.”  
  
"You’re not a loser," Vic protests. "And, you know, if you don’t want to have to kiss a stranger…I mean, you could always kiss me."  
  
I have to be hearing things. There’s no way he’s actually saying this.  
  
Blushing, he adds, “You know, if you want to. I don’t know if I told you or not, but I’m gay, too. But yeah. Do whatever, I guess.”  
  
Yeah, I’m definitely hearing things.  
  
"Well, uh…I think kissing a stranger would be a lot more awkward than kissing you," I say slowly. "Plus, no one else would want to."  
  
_I can’t believe I’m doing this._  
  
"So it won’t make things weird between us afterward if we do this?" If I didn’t know better, I’d say he sounds almost hopeful.  
  
"No, of course not," I reply quickly. "We can act like it never happened."  
  
He nods, and I can’t help but let my gaze roam over his body. I can’t help but admire his toned, strong-looking arms and his long, wavy hair. I can’t help but wonder what his lips will feel like on mine.  
  
_Wow, Kellin. Great job with the whole I-will-not-develop-a-crush-on-Vic thing._  
  
"Then we’ll do it," he says, breaking into my thoughts. "And then we’ll get our next clue and be on our way. Where are we supposed to be again?"  
  
—  
  
As we head off toward where we think the gazebo is, I remind myself that this kiss (or make-out session, technically) probably doesn’t mean to Vic what it means to me. To me, it marks the possible beginning of something great, but to him, it’s probably just a kiss.  
  
Then I remember that the same thing happened with Jordan: It started with a crush and a kiss, and then it led to something so much more.  
  
_And then…_  
  
That next thought is the one that makes me suddenly glad that this won’t amount to much. It might be good now, but it’ll take a turn for the worst eventually. It always does.  
  
When we reach the gazebo, we stand in the middle, each of us waiting for the other to make the first move. Vic steps closer to me, close enough that I can feel his breath when he leans forward, and gives me a small, warm smile. The warning voice in my head shuts up.  
  
I pull him in by his chin and kiss him right on his soft pink lips.  
  
For a moment, it’s just that—a kiss. Then Vic cups my cheek with his hand and glides his tongue across my own lips, moving even closer. I open my mouth slightly, deepening the kiss and letting him slip inside.  
  
From there, I completely forget about the reason we’re doing this. He wraps his hands around my waist, and I wrap mine around his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair. He slides his own fingers underneath my shirt, sending chills up my spine as he touches my skin. Without meaning to, I moan into his mouth, then feel his lips smirking against mine.  
  
Determined to get him back, I meet his tongue with mine, roughly rubbing my front against his. That elicits a small but existent gasp, and I smirk back, tightening my grip on his hair.  
  
That’s when a voice calls out, “ _Damn_ , that’s hot!”  
  
Vic and I quickly pull away and turn to the direction of the voice. A guy about our age is standing near the edge of the gazebo, clapping. “Impressive. Is one of you Kellin Quinn, then?”  
  
I raise my hand, trying to sound normal, even though this guy probably already saw everything. “Uh, that’s me.”  
  
"Fantastic." He heads over to us and hands me a slip of paper. "Ah, the joys of having an evil genius for a cousin."  
  
"Ah, the joys of having an evil genius for an ex-girlfriend," I reply.  
  
"I’ll bet." He smirks knowingly before turning and walking away.  
  
I look at Vic, who is still red-faced, breathless, and staring at me as if deep in thought. “That,” he says slowly, “was really something, Kellin.”  
  
I nod, trying not to think about things like how good at kissing he is or the possibility that he enjoyed it more than he would’ve if it was just a kiss. I do my best to push that all away, open the paper up, and say, “Yeah. It definitely was.”  
  
I hold it out for us to read.  
  
_The number before 8 and the number after 10. Buy something involving sexual actions._  
  
"The 7-Eleven, I’m assuming," Vic says. "Is she telling us to buy _condoms_?”  
  
"Or lube," I add. "Or a pregnancy test. Or some other method of birth control. But yeah, I guess so."  
  
He laughs a little. “Well, she has a sense of humor. I’ll give her that.”  
  
—  
  
We find the condoms without too much problem. In addition to that, Vic grabs a pack of cigarettes. “Well, this should be pretty simple,” he says, and with that, we walk up to the counter and set both things down.  
  
The guy at the counter glances at the cigarettes and then up at us. “ID?”  
  
Vic is about to pull his out, but I beat him to it and show it to the guy. The guy raises his eyebrows when he sees my name. His eyes flit to the box of condoms, then back up to me. I nod, as if to say,  _Yep, it’s me._  
  
"CONGRATULATIONS!" the guy yells, smiling knowingly. "You are our _one millionth customer_!”  
  
Everyone in the store turns to us as confetti shoots up from behind the counter and rains down.  
  
"And as a reward," the guy continues, "you get  _this_!”  
  
He holds out a folded piece of paper. I take it from him, noticing the curious looks from other people, who are probably wondering what this piece of paper could possibly be.  
  
The guy rings up our things after that. As we turn to walk out, he calls after us, “Have a fantastic day!”  
  
Once we’re in the car and on our way back to the hotel, Vic laughs a little and says, “I kind of don’t think that whole ‘one millionth customer’ bit was necessary.”  
  
"No, but he’s been recruited by Bree, so I guess we should’ve expected something like that. At least it’s over. Should I read the next clue?"  
  
"Sure," Vic replies. "You know, I feel like the word ‘clue’ isn’t exactly accurate. We should be calling them ‘commands’ or ‘death sentences’ or something."  
  
I laugh. “Good point.” Then I unfold the clue/command/death sentence and read it out loud.  
  
_Look for some fine art. Then find the guy in the hat. You’ll know him when you see him.  
Song: The Good Life - OneRepublic_  
  
"Are we going to a different city, then?" Vic asks.  
  
I shrug. “I think so. I guess there’s a city mentioned in the lyrics of the song.”  
  
"I’ll look them up when we get back."  
  
So after we reach our hotel room, Vic opens up his laptop and looks up the lyrics to “The Good Life”. Unfortunately, it seems that this is going to be a bit harder than we expected—the song mentions more than one place.  
  
"Uh," Vic says. "Did Bree say whether or not we were leaving the country?"  
  
"I don’t think we are," I reply. This rules out London (to Vic’s disappointment), Paris, and China.  
  
"Well, would she want us to backtrack?" I ask, pointing to where the lyrics mention Los Angeles. "California’s where we started, so I normally wouldn’t think so, but this is Bree we’re talking about."  
  
Vic shrugs. “Is there something special about one of these places? If we’re staying in America, then we could be going to either New York, L.A., or Colorado. I don’t know how she expects us to figure out which. I mean, you’re right about L.A. Plus, New York’s kind of far from here. Colorado sounds pretty logical, but…” Then he seems to get an idea. “Wait, hold on a minute.”  
  
He googles the band OneRepublic, and at the top of the results page, we find this sentence:  _OneRepublic is an American pop rock band from Colorado Springs, Colorado._  
  
I nod. “Do you think that could be it?”  
  
"It’s the best lead we’ve got," Vic says. "I’d say to just go for it and see what happens. Does Colorado Springs have some sort of fine arts center?"  
  
"Let’s see." I don’t even have to type an entire search in—the result pops up in the suggestions before I’ve even gotten to the word "arts".  
  
Vic gives me a high-five. “We’re brilliant. Let’s hit the road.”  
  
—  
  
"You’re leaving Salt Lake City already?"  
  
In keeping with my promise, I’m calling Matty from the car again, even though it’s only been a day.  
  
"Yep," I say, popping the "P". "We’re making good progress, Matty. Just you wait. We’ll be back with my car in no time."  
  
"For your sake, I hope so. What horrors did you have to face for this one?"  
  
"Horrors so traumatizing that I’d rather not relive them," I reply to avoid answering his question. I tell Matty nearly everything, but I don’t really want him to know that I made out with Vic. I feel like that needs to be kept between us, like it’s something special, even though it probably isn’t.  
  
"I sincerely apologize," Matty says, taking my bait. "Is Serial Killer Guy still not a serial killer?"  
  
"Serial Killer Guy has a name, you know," I tease. "Serial Killer Guy who is still not a serial killer."  
  
"Another sincere apology. What’s his name, then? Because if it’s Jeff or Slender Man or something, then I highly suggest you get the fuck out of there."  
  
I burst into laughter. “What is this, creepypasta? His name’s Vic.”  
  
Vic glances over at the sound of his name, raising an eyebrow in interest. I look away to conceal what is probably a blush sneaking its way onto my face.  
  
"Ooh,  _Vic_ ,” Matty says. “Sounds mysterious and sexy.”  
  
"Just a minute ago you were calling him a serial killer!"  
  
"And I didn’t say he wasn’t a serial killer. I just said he sounds mysterious and sexy. Maybe he’s a mysterious and sexy serial killer."  
  
I start laughing again. “You have serious problems.”  
  
"You won’t be saying that when I turn out to be right and he kills you in your sleep."  
  
"I won’t be saying anything if you turn out to be right and he kills me in my sleep, because I’ll be dead."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just be careful, Kells. You never know what types of crazies you’ll run into."  
  
I snort. “I’ll talk to you later, Matty.”  
  
"If you’re still alive later." With that, he hangs up.  
  
Vic glances at me for a quick moment before returning his attention to the road. In that moment, I see a mixture of amusement, fascination, and even longing. Then, softly, he says, “I want a relationship like that.”  
  
I put my phone back in my pocket. “Like what?”  
  
"Like you and Matty," he explains. "I don’t care if it’s not romantic. I want to be able to make someone laugh the way he makes you laugh." Before I can respond to that, he adds, "Why were you talking about me?"  
  
I shrug, trying to act natural. “I just mentioned that I met a guy who was helping me. Matty thinks you’re a serial killer.”  
  
He smiles a little at that. “Do you think I’m a serial killer?”  
  
_A killer of the heart, maybe,_  my mind says.  _Don’t get your hopes up, Kellin._  
  
My thoughts must show on my face, because Vic asks, “What’s wrong?”  
  
_What’s wrong is that I have a crush on you. What’s wrong is that something bad is going to happen because of it. What’s wrong is that I don’t know if I can save myself before I’m in too deep. What’s wrong is that this won’t last._  
  
I don’t say any of those things, though. I just plaster a smile back on my face, as if it never disappeared, and lie through my teeth: “Oh, nothing. I just spaced out for a moment there. And no, I don’t think you’re a serial killer.”  
  
"Well, good, because I’m not," Vic says. He raises an eyebrow playfully. "Or am I?"  
  
"Oh shit," I say. "Call the police."  
  
And then we’re teasing back and forth, the tense moment forgotten. About halfway through the nine-hour drive, when the deserts in Utah fade away to the mountains and forests of Colorado, Vic says, “I want to stop for a minute.”  
  
He pulls over on the side of the road and hops out of the car. Then he climbs up on top of it and sits on the roof. A bit confused, I follow his lead and sit down next to him.  
  
He points toward the sky. “Look at that.”  
  
I look in the direction that he’s gesturing to. The sun is setting over the mountains, bathing everything in orange light. “Holy shit,” I breathe.  
  
Vic pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a drag. “I just wanted to show you this. Thought you might like it.” He flashes me a smile.  
  
_Does he act like this with everybody?_  I wonder.  _Is he trying to make a move, or is he just friendly? Or does he just love traveling and wants to share it with someone else?_  
  
"I love watching the sunset with people," Vic continues. "I don’t know why. But I do."  
  
Suddenly, a memory hits me, of watching a different sunset with someone else—with Jordan. I can see it all: his smile, the smoke trailing out of his lips, the cigarette between his two fingers. Vic looks a lot like Jordan did, with the bright light hitting him at just the right angle to make it look like he has some sort of halo.  
  
"Yeah. Pretty," I say quickly, hopping off of the roof and climbing back into the passenger seat. I have to get away from this scene. It’s killing me.  
  
—  
  
"Beautiful, isn’t it?"  
  
Jordan and I are sitting on top of a hill, watching the sun descend from the sky. There’s a forest behind us, but it doesn’t block our view. Jordan has a cigarette between his lips and is giving me that wide smile.  
  
"Not as beautiful as you," I reply, shifting closer.  
  
Jordan laughs, kissing me on the cheek. “You’re so cheesy. I love it.” He takes another drag, and that’s when I notice the flames spreading from the cigarette to his fingertips.  
  
I jump up to my feet. “Jordan, watch out!”  
  
But the flare doesn’t seem to concern him. In fact, it doesn’t even look like he notices it. I try to reach forward to knock the cigarette away, but I’m frozen in my spot. I can’t move. I can only watch.  
  
Jordan stands up. The fire is searing his skin, and he yells out, dropping the cigarette. The flames spread with the speed of light, starting from his arm and dancing across his body. The sky has suddenly darkened, and now the only light is coming from Jordan’s burning body.  
  
It seems that he can’t move, either, and around us, fire sprouts from everywhere. The trees and the grass are burning—in fact, I’m the only thing here that isn’t—and Jordan screams, “Kellin, help me! Kellin! Do _something_!”  
  
But I can’t even open my mouth to reply.  
  
In a matter of seconds, the flames consume him. There’s nothing left.  
  
"Kellin. Kellin, wake up."  
  
Someone is shaking my shoulder and talking to me, and after a few seconds of confusion, I realize that it’s Vic. I rub my eyes and find tears falling out of them.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
"Kellin, it’s not real," he’s saying. "You’re okay now."  
  
We’re still driving, and Vic has pulled over. It’s dark outside. I must’ve fallen asleep in the car.  
  
"Vic," I whisper, the images from the dream still fresh in my mind. "Stop smoking."  
  
He narrows his eyes, probably wondering where the hell that came from. “It’s not that easy.”  
  
"I know." I take a deep breath.  
  
He stares at me for a few seconds. “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?”  
  
I shake my head, embarrassed that he has to see me this way. “No. It’s gone now.”  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
I close my eyes. “I’m sure, Vic. I’m okay.”  
  
Hesitantly, he asks, “Will you ever tell me what you dream about?”  
  
He says this as if we’ll know each other for a long time.  
  
But the warning voice is back in my mind, telling me not to get too close. I don’t want to see Vic burn up and disappear like Jordan did. And I don’t want to have to suffer through that again.  
  
Still, I tell Vic, “Maybe someday.”  
  
When we reach our hotel in Colorado Springs, I kick off my shoes and fall into one of the beds. Even though I slept in the car, I’m more tired now than I was before, so I’m out before Vic can even say a word to me.  
  
—  
  
I wake up at around two a.m. I don’t know why, but it seems that my body hates me, so now it’s the middle of the night and I’m wide awake all of a sudden.  
  
Great.  
  
For a while, I just stare at the ceiling. Then I roll over so that I’m facing the other bed, and that’s when I notice something: Vic’s not in it.  
  
At first I think that I just don’t see him, that maybe he’s buried in the covers somewhere. Just to make sure, I climb out of my own bed and pull the covers almost the whole way off. But there’s no doubt now—the bed is empty.  
  
Maybe he’s in the bathroom or something, I think. But the door is half-open and the light is off, and when I check, I find that I’m the only person in it.  
  
"Vic?" I call out. There’s no answer.  
  
I turn the lights on and check every possible hiding place—and considering that this is a simple hotel room, there aren’t that many.  
  
"Vic?" I repeat when I still haven’t found him.  
  
Again, there’s no answer. He’s gone.


	6. A Little Bit Closer

Before I even have a chance to wonder where Vic went, his phone rings—I guess he didn’t take it with him. The name “Tony” shows up on the screen. After a brief moment of contemplation, I answer the call: “Hello? This is Kellin.”  
  
"Kellin?" Tony repeats. "Where’s Vic?"  
  
"I don’t know," I admit. "I woke up and he was just…gone. Why are you calling him at two in the morning anyway?"  
  
Tony sighs. “Because I was afraid something like this would happen.”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “Something like what?”  
  
"Vic goes out in the middle of the night a lot. He, uh…well, has he ever smoked in front of you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"Well, that’s not his only bad habit."  
  
I sit down on my bed. “What are you saying, exactly?”  
  
"What I’m saying is that Vic is probably out getting drunk somewhere, or maybe high. What I’m saying is that when it comes to those things, he doesn’t really know where to stop."  
  
His words send my heart racing.  _What if something bad happens to him?_  
  
"It’s scary sometimes, when he does this," Tony continues. "He’s wild, in both good and bad ways, and sometimes he can get uncontrollable. He’s like a fucking hurricane."  
  
"A hurricane," I repeat softly. Somehow, I can picture it: Vic Fuentes, who runs rampant with excitement and intensity and reckless abandon. Vic Fuentes, a hurricane.  
  
"I just hope he comes back," Tony says. "He probably will, because things have been pretty good lately. But…yeah. Now you know."  
  
"Okay," I say slowly, trying to stay calm. "I’ll try to keep an eye on him, okay?"  
  
Suddenly, I realize what Vic means when he says he gets treated like a head case. And now I have a better understanding as to why.  
  
"Okay," Tony says. "Well, uh, it was good talking to you. Hope you find Vic."  
  
"Yeah, me too. Bye."  
  
I hang up, and only seconds after I set the phone down on the side table, the door to the hotel room opens. Vic stumbles through and closes it behind him.  
  
"Kellin," he says, swaying on his feet. "What are you doing up?" His words slur.  
  
"Looking for you," I reply. "Where were you?"  
  
"Out." He makes his way to his bed, nearly tripping over his own two feet, and falls right into it.  
  
"Vic," I say. "Are you okay?" I don’t know why I expect him to answer me. After all, I never answer him.  
  
"I’m fine, Kellin," he says, smiling blissfully, as if he’s in his own little world.  
  
Cautiously, I ask, “How many drinks did you have?”  
  
He shrugs, closing his eyes. “I don’t know. Stopped counting after, like, five.” His hair falls in disheveled clumps over his face, and when I reach out to brush them away, he smacks my hand lightly. “Leave me alone, Kellin,” he whines.  
  
"How did you even drive back here?" I whisper, staring at him in awe. He’s breathing sort of fast, his face is flushed and sweaty, and from what I can tell, coordination is not on his side tonight. He’s anything but sober.  
  
"I don’t know," he repeats, his voice getting softer. "Wasn’t too far away. I was fine…"  
  
And then he’s out.  
  
I don’t know if he’s sleeping or unconscious. Either way, I can’t help but pull his shoes off and attempt to rest the covers on top of him. I lightly touch his face, immediately feeling the warmth radiating from it, before turning off the lights and climbing back into my own bed.  
  
As I lie awake, I realize that I have not seen every side of Vic Fuentes. I’ve seen the happiness, the friendliness, the enthusiasm—but that’s not all there is to him. I can see another part, one that’s been hiding from me since I met him.  
  
I don’t know all that much about alcohol, but I do know that people who are as drunk as Vic don’t get that drunk from simply having a few shots for the fun of it. This level of drunk is for people with a darker side that they want to get rid of. This level of drunk is for people who are trying to destroy themselves.  
  
—  
  
"I feel like shit," Vic says in the morning. He buries his face in his pillow and groans. "What the hell happened last night?"  
  
"You got wasted," I tell him.  
  
"Are you serious?" He pulls himself to his feet, unsteady, then makes a break for the bathroom. A few seconds later, I can hear him emptying the contents of his stomach.  
  
 _Well, now we’re even,_  I think. He’s seen me a wreck after a nightmare (twice), and now I’ve seen him both drunk and hungover.  
  
Vic soon emerges from the bathroom, still in a bit of a daze and wiping sweat off his forehead. “Whoa. Let me get my shit together first. Then we can go to wherever we’re going.”  
  
"Okay," I say, before adding, "Tony called you last night."  
  
Vic falls back into his bed. “Why?”  
  
"He, uh…he wanted to make sure you weren’t out getting drunk or high somewhere."  
  
Vic grimaces. “He knows me too well.”  
  
I want to ask him why he felt the need to do it last night. I want to know more about these other parts of him. But I’m not going to ask him to open up to me when I can’t even open up to him, so instead I stay silent and let him pull himself together.  
  
Eventually, he does, and then he seems to brush it off. It’s kind of concerning, actually, that he’s so casual about what happened. It’s like he’s used to it, and I hate thinking that what I saw is normal for him.  
  
"So, the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center," he says. "I’m assuming that’s where we’re headed?"  
  
"Yeah," I reply, trying to match his now generally upbeat mood. "To find ‘the guy with the hat’. Whatever that means."  
  
"I guess we’ll find out."  
  
It doesn’t take long for us to get there. The Fine Arts Center, huge and professional-looking, is just north of downtown Colorado Springs (if Vic and a GPS are to be trusted), and right out front is a guy wearing a large hat. As we get closer and park the car, I realize that this hat has a specific shape to it.  
  
"Hey, Vic," I say, pointing as we hop out and make our way toward the building. "Is that hat shaped like a dick?"  
  
Vic starts laughing, because I can see it clearly now. “Oh my God,” he says. “It is.” He waves his hand. “Hey! Guy with the hat!”  
  
The guy turns to us, and I think I can see recognition cross his face. “ _When you’re ready, come and get it_!” he sings, to the tune of the Selena Gomez song, before flipping us off and running around the side of the building.  
  
"Hey!" Vic and I yell in unison. We exchange a what-the-fuck look before chasing after the guy.  
  
Most of the people here are inside, but there are a few walking past us that look at us like we’re insane. I don’t blame them—a guy wearing a hat shaped like a sex organ isn’t exactly something you see every day.  
  
We don’t get very far before we start gaining on him. He glances over his shoulder and slows down before finally just turning around and saying, “One of you is Kellin Quinn, right? You’re not just chasing me to say you like my hat?”  
  
Vic and I skid to a stop. “Yeah, I’m Kellin,” I say.  
  
The guy laughs a little, holding out a piece of paper. “I feel so bad for you. Bree’s kind of an evil genius.”  
  
"We noticed," I reply, taking the clue.  
  
"That is a pretty nice hat, by the way," Vic adds, smiling a little in amusement.  
  
"Thanks. I got it on eBay. You can buy everything there." Then he walks away, still wearing the hat as if what just happened is the most normal thing in the world.  
  
"Do I even want to know what that says?" Vic asks, pointing to the paper in my hands.  
  
I shrug and open it up. “Let’s find out.”  
  
 _Find a club, any club. Perform karaoke there—it must be a Fall Out Boy song—and take a video of it. Call it “Kellin Sings Fall Out Boy in Colorado Springs” and post it to YouTube. I will find it and comment with your next clue._  
  
"Well, that’s a pretty well-thought-out one," Vic says. He claps his hands together. "I guess we’ve gotta find a club."  
  
—  
  
After a little bit of research (Vic’s laptop is a lifesaver—he’s like Sam from _Supernatural_ ), we find a club that sounds pretty good, but it doesn’t have karaoke until tomorrow. Tonight is going to be a night in, which is fine by me. I don’t really feel like performing right now anyway, and I can tell that Vic doesn’t, either.  
  
"I’m gonna get something from the car," he says as we’re hanging out in the hotel room. "I’ll be right back."  
  
A few minutes later, he returns with a guitar case and pulls out an acoustic guitar, the same one he was playing the day I met him. Without even seeming to think about it, he starts strumming random chords.  
  
"Whoa," I say as I watch him. "How did I not know you brought that?"  
  
He shrugs. “Guess you didn’t see me put it in the trunk. I kept it in there until now, just in case I ever felt the need to get it out.”  
  
"Oh," I say, and then his phone rings.  
  
He sighs and sets the guitar down. “I think I know who that is.” He grabs the phone. “Yep.” Then he heads out to the room’s balcony and answers the call, but even through the screen door, I can clearly hear what he’s saying.  
  
"Tony, I know, and I’m sorry." Pause. "Look, I didn’t mean to…you know. I’m getting better, I swear." Pause. "I won’t. I promise." Pause. "Don’t remind me. I know, okay?" Pause. "Okay, later."  
  
He hangs up and sighs, sitting down on one of the chairs on the balcony. Then he pulls a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket and starts to smoke.  
  
After a short moment of just watching him, admiring the way the balcony light illuminates his figure, I open the screen door and sit down on the chair next to him.  
  
"I decided to join you," I say, "if that’s okay."  
  
He nods, blowing out a puff of smoke away from me. “Yeah, that’s fine.”  
  
For a few minutes, we just sit there and stare out at the view of the city and the mountains. It’s dark out, the sun having set a while ago, so the city, not the stars, seems to light up the whole sky.  
  
When his cigarette is done, he tosses it in the ashtray in the corner of the balcony. “So, I was wondering,” he says. “You don’t have to answer this, but…who’s Jordan?”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know about him?”  
  
"Well, you were saying his name in your sleep. Both times."  
  
I don’t have to ask him what he means by “both times”.  
  
I bite my lip. I want to open up to him, to trust him, but at the same time I don’t. The warning voice is back, whispering,  _Don’t get close. Don’t get close._  
  
"He was my boyfriend," I blurt.  
  
 _You’re a fucking idiot, Kellin._  
  
Vic nods in understanding. “Did he hurt you?”  
  
The question is so general, general and all-encompassing:  _Did he hurt you? Did he cause you pain of any sort?_  
  
"Yes," I say, looking away and letting my hair fall into my face.  
  
After a short pause, he says, “Well, I’d tell you I know what that feels like, but that doesn’t really help you.”  
  
I laugh a little, but there’s sadness behind it. A few more moments of silence pass, and when I finally look back at Vic, he’s staring at me. There’s some sort of emotion written on his face, I think, but I can’t tell what it is.  
  
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I sigh. “Do you want to know more about Jordan?”  
  
He nods slightly. “But only if you want to tell me about him.”  
  
"I do," I reply, and I mean it. Suddenly, I want to get it out, and as much as my conscience warns me that I shouldn’t, I trust Vic.  
  
"I met him about two years ago," I begin. "Our love story was pretty normal, though obviously it was special to us. Jordan was sort of hyper, but he was really fun to be around. He cared a lot about other people, and he was always telling me how much he cared about me. And I felt the same way." My voice cracks, because this is where the good parts end.  
  
"But then he started acting weird," I continue. "Both physically and emotionally. He had a bunch of symptoms and he never said what they were from. And he just kept acting like he was hiding something. And then one day he said that he was tired of having to keep a secret from me…and he told me that he was sick."  
  
Vic’s eyes widen slightly. He knows where this is going.  
  
"He didn’t last long after that," I say. "Apparently it was bad, and there was nothing the doctors could do except, well…wait. Wait and watch." I take a shaky breath. "It’s been about six months now, since…well, since the end."  
  
Vic stares at me in silence. He’s been watching me intently the entire time I’ve been talking, and he looks like he’s really listening to everything I say. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Really, I am.” Then he stands up, walks the few steps over to my chair, and hugs me.  
  
Not long ago, I would’ve flinched at his touch, especially since it’s voluntary. This isn’t for any stupid clue like the kiss was. But instead of flinching or backing away, I stand up and rest my head on his shoulder.  
  
"Thanks," I whisper, stepping out of his arms after a few seconds.  _Not too close,_  my conscience reminds me, but this time, it’s not as much of a command. Now it’s just a desperate attempt at controlling me.


	7. Is This Really Happening?

We go back inside shortly after that, but we only have a few minutes of peace, because then Vic’s phone rings again.  
  
"Fucking hell," he mutters, pulling it out of his pocket and glancing at the screen. "It’s my brother. How much does it take to convince them that I’m fine?"  
  
I assume that it’s a rhetorical question and shrug. Vic goes back out onto the balcony, and as soon as the screen door is closed behind him, he answers: “Hello?”  
  
Pause. “What happened?” Pause. “Okay…?” Pause. “Just spit it out, Mike.”  
  
And then: “ _What_?”  
  
There’s another pause, a longer one. “I…” Vic stammers out. “This can’t be…what do you mean, they don’t love each other anymore?”  
  
I should probably go away, but I’m transfixed by what he’s saying. Who are he and Mike talking about? What happened?  
  
"No," Vic says. "It’s been twenty-five years. It can’t just  _stop_  like that.” I can hear him growing more upset, his voice cracking a little.  
  
"Fuck that," he says. " _Fuck that_!”  
  
I can see him now, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the balcony. It hits the wall but doesn’t break. “Fuck that!” he yells again, and this time I hear real pain behind that voice. He ducks his head, his shoulders shaking. I can’t see his face, but I think he’s crying.  
  
I stand, about to at least knock on the screen door, when he looks back up and sees me watching him. I barely have time to notice the tears spilling from his eyes before he shoves the door open and storms back inside, slamming it behind him.  
  
"Vic," I call. "What’s wrong?"  
  
He whips his head around. “Nothing,” he says, sinking to his knees. “It’s nothing.”  
  
I run to him and kneel down in front of him. “It’s not nothing.”  
  
"It’s stupid," he sobs, his head in his hands. "It happens to people all the time. I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter—"  
  
"Vic," I interrupt, gently lifting his head up. "If it hurts this badly, it matters."  
  
The scene is familiar, and so are those words. They’re the words Matty said to me when Jordan died, when I cried my heart out and then claimed it was nothing.  
  
Vic takes a deep breath. “My parents,” he says slowly, “are getting a divorce.” His bottom lip trembles, as if he’s trying to hold his pain back.  
  
I lightly brush away a few of his tears with my thumb. “Vic,” I say softly, because I don’t know how else to respond.  
  
He stands up suddenly, pushing me away. “Nothing ever  _lasts_!” he yells, slamming his fist down on his bed. “This happens all the fucking time. They’ve been married for twenty-five years. They can’t just stop loving each other like that!” He’s nearly hysterical, and it hurts to see him like this.  
  
"Fuck everything," he continues. "When does anything good ever come from love? Never. I’m done with this. I’m done with all of this."  
  
He heads for the door of the hotel room. I chase after him, but he just pushes me away again. “Leave me alone,” he demands, still crying steadily. “Please.”  
  
"Vic, I’m not leaving you when you’re like this," I argue, fear creeping up inside of me at the thought of what might happen.  
  
"Like what?" he snaps, furiously brushing away tears that won’t stop falling.  
  
"Upset and not thinking clearly," I tell him, taking hold of one of his hands.  
  
He pulls it away from me. “I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” he says. “I need. To be. Alone.”  
  
Then he rushes down the hall without a backward glance. I chase after him, but he must be secretly an Olympic runner, because within seconds he’s gotten impossibly far ahead of me. The twists and turns of this hotel are confusing as fuck, and even when I take the stairs two at a time, I still end up losing him, so I make my way to the lobby and hope for the best. This proves to be harder than I thought, considering that I haven’t really been paying attention to which way I’ve been going and have no idea what direction the lobby is in. That doesn’t stop me from trying to figure it out, though.  
  
I can’t stop thinking about what Tony said last night, about Vic being wild, about him being a hurricane. I can see it now more than ever, and that terrifies me. My heart beats so fast that it hurts, seeming to pump out panic instead of blood.  _Something bad could happen,_  it shouts at me.  _He could die tonight. He could drink himself to death._  
  
I shake my head to clear it. I have to find him. I have to.  
  
I make it to the lobby about ten seconds later. The lady at the desk is looking at me strangely, and I turn to her. “Did you see him?” I ask, hoping that if a hysterical Vic stopped by here, she’d remember him.  
  
"The guy who was running?" she says, perking up in recognition. "Young? Tan? Crying, I think? I tried to calm him down, but he wasn’t having it."  
  
"That’s him," I say breathlessly. "Where’d he go?"  
  
She points to the front door. “Out there, to the right.”  
  
"Thank you," I say. I push through the front door and turn to the right, continuing a search that is desperate and growing more hopeless by the minute.  
  
—  
  
I don’t know how long it’s been. All I know is that I’m roaming around the city, it’s now past midnight, rain is starting to fall, and I still haven’t found Vic.  
  
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, hoping that it’s him. But it’s not. It’s my sister.  
  
"Lily?" I say when I answer it. "What happened?" I know she wouldn’t call this late just to make small talk.  
  
"I—it’s stupid, never mind," she says, but I can hear her voice cracking. It reminds me of what Vic said earlier.  
  
"No," I say, continuing to scan the streets as I talk to her. "It’s not. What is it?"  
  
She sighs. “I just…had a nightmare. I wanted to talk to someone who, y’know, understood.”  
  
I slow down a little. “Was it about…?” I don’t dare say his name.  
  
"Yeah," Lily replies. "It was about Ethan."  
  
I almost punch something right then and there. Ethan is the reason her life nearly went to hell. He’s also another reason why that warning voice in my head, the one that tells me not to get close to Vic, exists.  
  
"It’s not real," I say softly. "Just remember that. He’s never coming back."  
  
"I know," she says. "But I’m terrified, Kell. I don’t remember what it’s like to not be paranoid that something like that won’t happen again."  
  
I can’t help but feel sad for her then, because I  _do_  have the luxury of knowing what that’s like, to some degree. It’s what allowed me to start falling for Vic.  
  
"It won’t happen again," I insist, but we both know that there’s always a possibility.  
  
"I’m just glad that I have you," she says. "You’re the only decent person I know anymore." Then, without a warning, she hangs up.  
  
I don’t even have time to slip my phone back into my pocket, because then it rings again. I don’t look at the number this time, figuring that it’s Lily and that she just hung up accidentally, but it’s not her voice that responds to my greeting. It’s Vic’s.  
  
"Kellin," he gasps. "I-I need you to…to come pick me up." In that one sentence, I can tell that he’s drunk out of his mind.  
  
"Vic?" I say, feeling relief wash over me at the fact that he’s still alive. "Where are you?"  
  
He gives me a brief description of his location, which I can barely understand because of how much his words slur. Once I know where he is, I quickly end the call and make a run for it. As it turns out, I’m somewhat close to him already, so it doesn’t take long. He’s sitting in an alleyway with his back against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest.  
  
"Vic!" I yell, rushing over to him. "Vic, are you okay?"  
  
He gazes up at me, blinking a few times. His body is shaking, and he looks pained. “No,” he says, closing his eyes. “Why the hell is everything spinning?”  
  
"You’re drunk," I tell him, reaching my hand out. "Come on. We’re going back."  
  
He makes a quiet whining sound, followed by a choking sound that then turns into soft weeping. He reopens his eyes and takes my hand, starting to cry again as I pull him to his feet. He stumbles almost immediately, so I wrap one of his arms around my shoulders to steady him.  
  
"It’s gonna be okay," I tell him, hoping that it’s true. His overall helplessness hurts so much to see.  
  
"No, it’s not," he cries into my shoulder as I lead him out of the alley.  
  
"I think we’re gonna need a taxi," I mutter, glancing up and down the busy streets. Now that we’re among the city lights, I can see Vic more clearly—his bloodshot eyes, his flushed face, the sweat glistening on his forehead. "Vic, listen to me," I say. "You’re going to be okay."  
  
He shakes his head. “No. Nope. Don’t give me that bullshit.”  
  
I’m about to argue when I see a taxi coming down the street. I wave my hand at it, and it stops on the side of the road, next to us. I breathe a sigh of relief and let Vic climb in the back first. Then I follow him and close the door behind us.  
  
The driver looks back at us sympathetically. I think she can tell that we need this ride. “Where to?”  
  
I give her the name of our hotel, and then she’s off.  
  
Vic has his head on my shoulder. “It wasn’t bad at first,” he says to me. “It really wasn’t. I was having fun. I was happy. I forgot why I was even upset in the first place. But then it just…it got worse. And I…I fucking remembered everything.”  
  
"It’ll be okay," I whisper.  
  
"No, it won’t!" he snaps. "It won’t be okay. Everybody fucking hurts each other and leaves each other. You’ll leave me, too, just like everyone else."  
  
I brush a few tears away from his eyes. “Don’t say that,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t do that. I’ll never leave you.”  
  
"That’s what they all say," he whimpers, but he seems to be calming down a little.  
  
At this point, the taxi stops, which is when I realize that we’re at our hotel. The driver tells me what I owe, and I dig the money out of my pocket and hand it to her before helping Vic climb out and then following him.  
  
"Hey," the driver says to me. She nods to Vic. "Thanks for taking care of him. There aren’t many things worse than being alone and in that state."  
  
I nod. “I, uh…you’re welcome.”  
  
"Also," she says slowly, "I don’t know what your relationship with him is, but I just want to say…don’t make a promise unless you know you can keep it."  
  
I nod again, though I’m a bit too distracted to think about what she means. “Okay.” Then I turn and head inside, still supporting Vic.  
  
It’s the same lady at the desk, and she looks up when she sees us. “So you found him,” she says to me.  
  
"Yeah," I say, guiding Vic to the elevator. "We’re good now."  
  
When we get back up to our hotel room, Vic falls on the bed the same way he did last night. “Kell,” he says quietly, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry you have to deal with me.”  
  
"It’s okay," I reply, taking his shoes off and tossing them to the floor. "Really."  
  
"No, it’s not," he says, but he seems to be drifting off. "I’m sorry."  
  
I stand over him and run my fingers through his soft hair. His breathing seems to slow down and even out, but even after I know he’s sleeping, I keep on doing it, resting my hand against his cheek. I can’t help it. Lily told me once that I’m too affectionate for my own good, and maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why I crave his touch so much, why it’s so hard for me to pull away.  
  
As I turn the lights off and crawl into my own bed, the taxi driver’s words come back to me— _don’t make a promise unless you know you can keep it_ —and suddenly, I realize what she was talking about.  
  
She was talking about what I said to Vic:  _I’ll never leave you._  But in all honesty, I meant it when I said it. I’ve found no reason to leave him, unless he wants me to leave. I’m having trouble imagining us going our separate ways and never seeing each other again after this is all over. I feel like we have something, but it might just be me getting my hopes up.  
  
And even if I do break that promise one day, Vic’s probably too drunk to even remember that I made it.  
  
—  
  
"Are you okay in there?" I ask the next morning. I’m standing in front of the closed bathroom door, and Vic is in there puking his guts up.  
  
"Oh, yeah," he responds sarcastically. "Absolutely. Everything’s just fine and dandy in here. Fucking fantabulous." I can hear him heaving a little more. "You’d think I’d be immune to this by now."  
  
"Do you remember what happened last night?"  
  
He groans. “Somewhat. I was drunk and hysterical, I remember that.”  
  
I take a deep breath. “Do you remember why you were drunk and hysterical?”  
  
He sighs. “Yeah, I remember that, too.”  
  
From out on the balcony, I hear a faint ringing sound. Vic’s phone must still be on the ground from when he threw it against the wall. “Your phone’s ringing,” I tell him, and he groans again. “I’ll get it for you if you want,” I suggest.  
  
"Uh, yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks."  
  
I rush outside and grab the phone off the floor—it’s Mike—before sitting down in one of the chairs. “Hello?” I answer. “This is Kellin.”  
  
"Kellin? Where’s Vic? I’ve been trying to get to him all night."  
  
"Uh, he’s in the bathroom, puking up three fourths of his body weight."  
  
"Shit," Mike mutters. "Mind telling me why?"  
  
"Hangover."  
  
"Shit," he repeats. "How bad was it? Like…last night…"  
  
Automatically, I make a face, though he can’t see it. “Well, uh…pretty bad.”  
  
Mike sighs loudly. “I knew I should’ve waited until he got home to say something. Sorry you had to deal with that.”  
  
"You know, you guys aren’t always gonna be around to prevent this shit from happening," I point out. "He’s gotta save himself, y’know?"  
  
He sighs again. “I know. I just…get paranoid, I guess. We all do. Is he okay now?”  
  
I glance over my shoulder. Inside, Vic has left the bathroom and is now lying on his bed with a pained expression on his face.  
  
"Uh," I say. “‘Okay’ is a relative term, but compared to last night, yeah."  
  
"Okay," Mike says. "Just, uh…make sure he doesn’t die, alright?"  
  
I can’t tell whether or not he’s being completely serious, so I just say, “Okay.”  
  
"Well, uh, thanks. Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Most of the day is uneventful. Vic doesn’t talk much, which is something that I’m not entirely used to. He also seems worn out, tired, almost lifeless, which is something I’m definitely not used to. Before, he always had some sort of spark in him. But today, the only things I see that even resemble sparks are the ashes coming from his cigarettes.  
  
"Why don’t you play your guitar or something?" I suggest, around late afternoon.  
  
Vic is lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. He nods absently. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he says in an almost monotone voice, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I think I’ll do that.”  
  
That’s when things start to light up a little bit, penetrating some of the grayness that has been hanging above us like a dark cloud. Vic seems to lose himself in the music, even humming quietly as he plays, and for whatever reason, watching him is just so interesting.  
  
At one point, he looks up at me, quirking an eyebrow. “Why are you staring at me?”  
  
I can sense a blush creeping onto my cheeks, and I shrug, trying to act casual. “I don’t know. I like watching you play.”  
  
"Why?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused.  
  
I shrug again. “I-I don’t know,” I stammer. “It’s just interesting.”  
  
After a moment of silence, Vic breaks into a small but clearly visible smile. “You’re cute when you’re awkward.”  
  
My heart skips a beat, and I look away to hide my face, which is probably getting even redder. “I…what?”  
  
Vic just laughs a little before returning his attention to his guitar. “We’re going to that club place tonight, right?” he says as he strums, starting to sound a bit more like his usual self. “To do the whole karaoke thing?”  
  
"If you’re up for it," I tell him.  
  
He looks up at me with an air of determination, of excitement. “Oh, yeah. I’m up for it.”  
  
—  
  
Vic and I know what song we’re going to do before we even get there. I’m not sure whether or not they’ll have it, but Vic is confident, the gloom from earlier disappearing faster and faster with every minute that passes. We’ve already figured out who’s going to sing what.  
  
There are a decent amount of people here, but it’s not too crazy. I sit down at the bar while Vic heads up to ask for our song. Apparently, the karaoke doesn’t actually start until nine, and it’s only eight-thirty right now, but there are probably people who signed up before us.  
  
Vic comes back and sits down next to me, smiling. “I told you so.”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “What?”  
  
"You thought they might not have it, but they did." He sticks his tongue out, just the way he usually does.  
  
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Okay, okay, you win.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “And what do I win?” Is that a  _suggestive_  tone in his voice, or am I just hearing things?  
  
"Uh," I say. He leans forward slightly, and I want so badly to just kiss him, but instead I lean back and smirk a little. "Nothing yet. That’s only if you do a good job with the song tonight."  
  
"Oh, I think I’ll do a fantastic job." Then his voice turns casual. "You said you can sing?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," I say, suddenly feeling shy. "I’m not that great, though."  
  
The playfulness is back in an instant. “I’ll be the judge of that.”  
  
Sure enough, there are a few other people who go up before us when the karaoke begins. My heart keeps beating faster, and I think Vic can sense my growing anxiety, because he reaches over and squeezes my hand. That doesn’t really calm me down, though; his touch sends shivers through me.  
  
"Wait a minute," Vic says. "We have to get a video somehow."  
  
Shit.  
  
"Are you gonna sit back here and take it?" I ask nervously. "Just let me sing the whole thing myself?"  
  
Vic shakes his head. “I’ll find someone to do it. Hey!” He waves the bartender over, a girl with dark brown hair whose name (according to her name tag) is Tay.  
  
"Yeah?" she asks.  
  
Vic pulls out his phone. “Can you do me a favor and take a video of us when we sing karaoke? Don’t ask why.”  
  
Tay gives us a strange look before nodding and taking the phone. “I promise I’ll give it back,” she says, laughing a little.  
  
"Thanks." Vic flashes her his killer smile, and even though it’s not directed at me, I think I’m blushing because of it.  
  
Finally, the moment of truth arrives, and our names are called. I’m nearly frozen, so Vic grabs my hand again and leads me up to the stage. I take one of the microphones and wave awkwardly. From the bar, I can see Tay holding up Vic’s phone.  
  
"So, uh," I say, "tonight we’re singing ‘Grand Theft Autumn’—"  
  
"Also known as ‘Where Is Your Boy’," Vic interjects smoothly.  
  
"By Fall Out Boy," I finish.  
  
A few people clap, and then Vic steps forward, quietly starting it out: “ _Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman…_ ”  
  
“ _And maybe he won’t find out what I know_ ,” I add. “ _You were the last good thing about this part of town…_ ”  
  
Then the music comes in. Vic turns to me and nods ever so slightly, causing my anxiety to melt away.  
  
Vic sings the first verse in an octave higher than I’ve ever heard him sing before, and he does it perfectly. Just as I’m busy thinking that I’ll never match up to him, he glances at me expectantly, which is when I realize that it’s my turn.  
  
“ _You need him, I could be him_ ,” I jump in, pressing my hand against my chest because I’m not quite sure what to do with it. I try not to focus on Vic watching me as we switch into the chorus and he adds his voice to mine.  
  
I sing the second verse alone, and it’s only when Vic takes over the pre-chorus that I let myself look at him again. He’s staring at me even as he sings with an expression on his face that I can’t read.  
  
 _Focus, Kellin,_  I tell myself.  _Stop thinking._  
  
With that, I manage to shut my brain up and just sing the rest of the song with him. As we finish it off and the last note plays, Vic smiles widely and takes my hand. The brightness is back, showing no sign that he was a broken-down wreck less than twenty-four hours ago. He leans forward, raising his eyebrows, and I find myself thinking,  _Oh my God, you’re fucking beautiful. You’re fucking amazing._  
  
"So, Kellin," he says quietly, a smirk playing upon his pretty lips, "did I do a good job?"  
  
—  
  
When we get home, Vic pulls out his phone and says he’s going to go upload the video to YouTube. I head out onto the balcony, which is where I call Lily to tell her something. She answers on the second ring. “Hello?”  
  
"Hey, Lily, guess what?"  
  
"Oh, no," she teases. "What?"  
  
"Well, uh…remember when I told you I was going to San Diego, and you and I started coming up with ideas of what might happen there?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," she says slowly.  
  
"Remember how we joked about me singing karaoke?"  
  
She starts laughing. “Oh my God. Did you actually do that?”  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Oh my God, Kellin. Alone?"  
  
"Uh, no," I say. "A friend sang with me."  
  
"A friend? I thought you went by yourself for your little vacation."  
  
"I did," I reply. "But, um…well, I met a guy. A, uh, a new friend."  
  
"A  _new_  friend,” Lily repeats.  
  
"Yeah," I say, smiling. "He’s, uh…his name’s Vic, and he plays the guitar, and, um, he’s got a really nice voice—"  
  
"You’re in love with him, aren’t you?"  
  
I bite my lip. “Absolutely not.”  
  
She snorts. “Please. I’m not stupid. Did you even  _hear_  yourself?”  
  
I laugh awkwardly. “You’ve got it all wrong, Lil. I’m not—”  
  
"Sure you’re not. And the sky is green."  
  
I sigh. “Okay, I admit it. So maybe I kind of have the hots for him. Happy?”  
  
"Somewhat. Just…be careful, okay?"  
  
"I will. Bye, Lily," I say, before hanging up and heading back inside.  
  
Vic is lying on his stomach on the bed, flipping through TV channels. “Hey,” he says, looking up at me and smiling. “So I got the video uploaded. ‘Kellin Sings Fall Out Boy in Colorado Springs’. Now we just have to wait.”  
  
"Uh…okay," I say slowly, unable to say anything else because I’m too busy staring at him and thinking.  _Fuck._  
  
Lily’s right. I’ve got it  _bad_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is it with me and making them sing karaoke idk


	8. Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic

At around two in the morning, I wake up suddenly, my heart pounding and my breathing fast. I was just having a nightmare again, and the images are still fresh in my mind.  
  
But I try not to focus on that right now, because I can hear some thumping and crashing. I rub my eyes and sit up, which is when I see a dark figure, Vic, quickly pacing back and forth in the room.  
  
"Vic?" I say groggily. "What are you doing?"  
  
Vic runs his fingers through his hair, making a noise of frustration. Then he grabs something off of the desk and throws it across the room.  
  
"Vic!" I hiss. "What’s wrong?"  
  
Vic kicks the leg of the desk, then continues pacing, his hands balled up into fists. “Fucking Craig,” he mutters. “Fucking everyone. That’s what’s wrong. The whole fucking world is wrong.”  
  
I climb out of my bed and make my way over to him. “Vic,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Why are you up?”  
  
Vic bites his lip, his anger starting to fade. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about shit. Sorry for waking you up.”  
  
Before I can say anything, he pushes past me and crawls back into bed, sighing and brushing a few pieces of hair out of his face. He closes his eyes, but I don’t really want to go back to sleep yet. I don’t want to risk falling back into another nightmare. I normally don’t get them often, but then again, I normally don’t fall in love, and that, I think, is what’s causing them.  
  
"Kellin?" Vic whispers, opening his eyes and staring up at me. The anger has completely left them, and now they look kind of sad, almost pleading.  
  
"Yeah?" I whisper back, standing at the edge his bed.  
  
He hesitates. “Uh…actually, never mind.”  
  
But I’m curious now. I lean forward slightly, resting my hand on the sheets next to where he lies. “I, uh…I had another dream,” I admit.  
  
That seems to catch his attention. He looks up at me, concern written all over his features. “Was it about Jordan?”  
  
I shake my head. “Not this time. But it scared the hell out of me.”  
  
After another moment of hesitation, Vic takes my hand in his, glancing away. “Do you want to stay with me?”  
  
I don’t even have to answer. I just climb into the bed with him—slowly, cautiously—and pull the covers over us, ignoring every instinct that tells me how far from safe I’ve gone.  
  
"You know about Jordan," I say, "so are you ever gonna tell me who Craig is?"  
  
Vic wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Maybe,” he replies. “But not tonight.”  
  
I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest. I can hear his heart beating, and I can feel his hand moving around in slow, soothing circles on my back. I don’t know if he realizes he’s doing it, but I’m not complaining. The affection feels nice.  
  
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice points out,  _Yeah, this is totally platonic, Kellin. Absolutely. No romantic feelings whatsoever._  I tell it to be quiet and stop getting my hopes up. What do I know about romance anyways?  
  
"Are you okay now?" Vic asks, his voice right next to my ear. "You know, because of your dream?"  
  
I nod, breathing in his warm scent. “Yeah,” I say truthfully, my eyelids fluttering closed. “I’m okay now.”  
  
Then I fall into a light sleep. When I wake up, it’s only four in the morning, and Vic is awake, too—I don’t think he’s slept at all since I found him a couple of hours ago. He’s biting his lip and clenching his jaw slightly, and his fingers are tangled in my hair, gripping it a bit tightly.  
  
"Vic," I whisper, reaching up and resting a hand on his cheek. "Sleep."  
  
"Can’t," he whispers back. "My brain won’t shut the fuck up."  
  
I run my hand through his hair as he blinks a few times and fights just to keep his eyes open. “You’re tired,” I say. “Go to sleep.”  
  
His eyes fall closed as he starts to give in. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “I didn’t want…didn’t want something to happen.”  
  
 _He stayed awake for me? To make sure I was okay?_  
  
"I’m fine," I tell him. "The nightmare’s gone now."  
  
With that, he’s out almost instantly, and then I realize that his lips are only inches from mine. My heart beats faster at the thought of kissing him—and kissing him purely by choice, not for Bree—and I reason that since he’s asleep, he won’t even know it happened.  
  
 _Do it, Kellin. You know you want to.  
  
No, Kellin! You’re so fucking dumb! What the hell are you thinking?  
  
Now’s your chance, Kell. Go for it.  
  
No. Don’t._  
  
I kiss him softly, pulling away after a few seconds that don’t last anywhere near long enough. Vic’s eyelids flutter slightly, and for a terrifying moment I think I’ve woken him, but then he falls back asleep, leaving me to sigh in relief.  
  
 _Too far, Kellin. You’ve gone too far._  
  
I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, thinking back to my nightmare. I was back out in the city, searching for Vic. I found him in the same alley where I found him in real life, except in the dream, he was lying on the ground, dead. Then he disappeared, and so did everything else, until I was completely alone in the world.  
  
But Vic’s arms wrapped around me and his soft breathing in my ear prove that I’m not. He’s here with me, in a hotel room in Colorado Springs. I hold onto that, hold onto him, until I drift asleep again.  
  
—  
  
"She found it," Vic announces the next morning. He’s sitting on the bed with his laptop, checking YouTube.  
  
I get up from where I’ve been lying impatiently on my own bed and glance over his shoulder at the laptop. Sure enough, underneath the video is a single comment.  
  
 _Great performance, Kell. (Who’s the pretty tan guy? I like him.) For dinner, go to a restaurant with your middle name in it._  
  
I snort. “She called you a pretty tan guy.”  
  
Vic shrugs. “I’ll take it. So what’s your middle name? Kellin-something-Quinn.”  
  
I bite my lip. “Actually, it’s Kellin Quinn Bostwick. Quinn’s my middle name.”  
  
"Oh," Vic says. "Any particular reason you go by that instead of Bostwick?"  
  
I don’t tell him that it’s because “Bostwick” reminds me of my family, and I’d rather not be associated with them. I just say, “I like it better, I guess. I don’t know.” Then, to change the subject, I ask, “What’s your middle name?”  
  
He smiles a little. “Vincent.”  
  
I laugh. “Like Vincent Van Gogh.”  
  
"Yeah, except I’d never be a good artist. I can’t paint a picture to save my life."  
  
"People who play music are artists, too," I tell him, thinking of the melody that caught my attention in the first place. If it weren’t for that, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed him while I was walking along the shore.  
  
Vic gives me a thoughtful look. “Hey,” he says slowly. “You sang really well last night.”  
  
"Oh. I, uh, um…thanks," I stutter. "You, too."  
  
"No, I mean really, really well. Your voice is, like…flawless." He stares at me in what looks like amazement, but that can’t be right. There’s nothing amazing about me.  
  
"No, your voice is flawless," I argue.  
  
He shakes his head. “Don’t turn this around on me, Kellin. You’re incredible at singing, and that’s a fact.”  
  
I roll my eyes, looking away in an attempt to hide my blush behind my hair. “Okay, okay. This could go on all day. What’s your point?”  
  
"My point," he says deliberately, "is that I think it’d be fun if you and I did a song together. Like, if we covered something. Just for the hell of it."  
  
For a moment I think I’ve heard him wrong. “Uh, what?”  
  
"Only if you want to, though," he adds. "I just thought, I don’t know, maybe it’d be interesting."  
  
"I’d love to," I say, and I mean it.  
  
His face lights up. “Really?”  
  
"Yeah. We could do it today, maybe."  
  
Without replying, Vic turns back to the computer, typing something in. After a few seconds, he says, “Well, that was easy. I think I know where we’re going.”  
  
I glance over his shoulder. He’s looked up restaurants in Colorado Springs, and across the top of the page, the sixth result is a place called Jack Quinn’s.  
  
"Okay, yeah," I say. "Jack Quinn’s it is."  
  
Vic nods and looks back up at me. “Well, now that we know what we’re doing later,” he says, “you’re right. We could do the song today.”  
  
With that, he sits down on the bed and pulls his guitar out, and we move from there. After a brief debate, we decide to do “Alone Together” by Fall Out Boy (and Vic makes a joke about how much that band has been with us recently). He already knows all the chords and everything, and I know all the lyrics, so it’s not too long before I’m sitting next to him on the bed as he starts to record us with his phone.  
  
At the same time that Vic begins playing, I sing, “ _I don’t know where you’re going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul_?”  
  
Even as he’s playing, Vic watches me the same way he did while we were singing last night. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that I can almost see admiration in his expression. I don’t get it. What is there to admire about me?  
  
When the song is over, Vic just keeps staring at me. I can only look back at him for a few seconds before hastily glancing away. I point at the phone, and Vic nods as if to say,  _Oh. Right._  Then he reaches forward and stops recording.  
  
"That was really good," he says softly. His gaze seems to make its way up and down my body before he glances away and says, "So, Jack Quinn’s, huh?"  
  
—  
  
Surprisingly, the restaurant, which I quickly figure out is an Irish pub, isn’t all that busy. When we sit down in our seats and order our drinks, I realize that we don’t even know what we’re supposed to accomplish here. The clue just said to go here.  
  
Vic must be thinking the same thing, because he turns to me and asks, “What do we do now?”  
  
I shrug. “Just wait, I guess. I don’t know. Maybe we get a free pass with this one.”  
  
We go through almost the entire dinner without anything to tell us how we’re supposed to get this clue. Right as we’re about to stand up and leave, my gaze sweeps across the room one last time when a glint of dark blue hair catches my attention.  
  
 _Is that…?_  
  
The girl spots me in the same instant, and that’s when I recognize her—a girl with black short shorts, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, a pretty pale face, and killer eyebrows. With her badass bright red lips twisted into a smirk, she stands up and walks toward us like she’s on top of the world, something I’ve always respected about her. She doesn’t take shit from anybody—she prefers causing her own.  
  
"Bree."  
  
Vic turns to me. “What?”  
  
"Bree," I repeat, nodding toward her. Vic looks up just as she reaches our table, her gaze flitting over us. I’ll admit—she’s not bad-looking. If I were into girls, I’d probably be swooning over her.  
  
"Ooh, Pretty Tan Guy," she says in a teasing, lilting voice. "You’ve made a reappearance."  
  
Vic raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Just get to the point," I say quickly. "Where’s our clue?"  
  
Bree clicks her tongue. “Patience, Kelly.”  
  
I flip her off.  
  
She snorts. “Now that’s just plain rude. I decided to be nice and give it to you myself. But I have a price.”  
  
Vic narrows his eyes. “So we’re supposed to pay you for it?”  
  
"Well, yes. But not with money." She’s got a clear evil smile now. "With a kiss." She stares right at me.  
  
I just look at her. “What?”  
  
She shrugs. “I might not really like you, Kellin, but your lips look lonely.”  
  
"You can’t make him do that," Vic says coldly, glaring at her.  
  
"He doesn’t have to  _do_  anything,” she replies. Then, before I can protest, she pecks me on the lips.  
  
Honestly, it’s not that horrible, but Vic looks like he’s about to bust a vein. I’m not sure why Bree kissing me pisses him off so much. Maybe he’s jealous or something.  
  
But what would he even be jealous of?  
  
Bree smiles. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” Then she tosses a slip of paper onto the table. “Toodaloo, motherfuckers.”  
  
Suddenly, I remember something. “Wait!” I call, standing up and chasing her as she makes her way out of the restaurant. Vic grabs the paper, leaves a tip, and follows me.  
  
When we get outside, Bree spins around. “What?”  
  
"Matty says he never spoke to you," I say. "How did you know where I was?"  
  
She makes a face. “Fine. Two months ago, I may or may not have entered your phone into my ‘Find iPhone’ app.”  
  
She  _what_?  
  
"And how did you do that?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.  
  
"I may or may not have snuck into your house."  
  
My jaw drops. “I—you—you’re crazy.”  
  
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It was in the name of this adventure. I had to. By the way, that’s also when I took the spare key to your car, which is how I stole it. I was just waiting for you to leave and go on vacation somewhere, because you need that car to get home. And I knew you would, because I know how much you hate your town. How pop punk of you.”  
  
I just stare at her in awe. “You…have put so much thought into this.”  
  
"Not as much as you’d think, actually," she says casually. "This whole plan was in the back of my mind for years. It was only recently that I decided to put it into action. For a while, I was busy with other things, but then I got bored. I  _do_  have a life outside of making yours hell, believe it or not.”  
  
I don’t know what to say.  
  
"But anyways," she says, "I should be going. And  _you_  should be reading that clue.”  
  
Then she hops into the passenger seat of a car parked on the side of the road—not mine—and waves at me as a guy in the other seat drives away.  
  
From behind me, Vic points at the car. “That’s…I know that car,” he says, sounding like he just saw a ghost.  
  
I turn to him, narrowing my eyes. “You do?”  
  
He nods, biting his lip.  
  
I shake my head. “It probably just looks similar.”  
  
"No, it’s the same car," he says. "It’s got the same license plate and everything."  
  
"Well…whose car is it?"  
  
He hesitates. “It’s Craig’s car.”  
  
 _Craig._  There’s that name again. “And, uh…who  _is_  Craig?”  
  
Vic turns to me, eyes shining and voice cracking. “My…” Then he looks away, down at the ground. “My ex-boyfriend.”  
  
Just from the way he says it, I know. I know that this Craig guy destroyed him, broke his heart, lit up his life only to set it on fire.  
  
I hold my hand out to him. “Come on. Let’s go back.”  
  
—  
  
 _Your next clue will be waiting in a big-ass fountain. Yes, in.  
Song: Chicago Is So Two Years Ago - Fall Out Boy_  
  
This is what the clue says. So Vic and I are packing our things and preparing to head off to Chicago. I’m mostly finished, though, so now I’m out on the back porch, calling Matty.  
  
"So, you’re off to the next stop, then?" he asks.  
  
"Mm-hmm," I reply. "Chicago."  
  
"I guess this means that Vic guy didn’t kill you in your sleep yet."  
  
"He’s never going to," I say. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about him, actually."  
  
"Uh…why? What about him? What’d he do?"  
  
I can feel my face heating up. “Well, uh…I think he stole my heart. Basically. As cheesy as that sounds.”  
  
For a moment, there’s silence. “I didn’t hear you wrong, did I?” Matty says. “Because it sounds like you’re telling me you’re in love with him.”  
  
I bite my lip. “I think I  _am_  in love with him.”  
  
"Whoa, really? Seriously?"  
  
Before I can respond, the screen door opens, and Vic comes out, staring at me. My heart nearly stops.  
  
"Matty, I’ll…uh…I’ll call you back," I say slowly.  
  
"Wait, what? Kellin!" Matty calls. I hang up on him.  
  
"H-how much did you hear?" I say. I know how thin that door is. If I can hear his phone calls, he can probably hear mine.  
  
He takes a step toward me. “Everything.”  
  
 _Shit, shit, shit._  
  
"I…I, uh…" I stammer as a wave of panic crashes over my head.  _Maybe he doesn’t know I was talking about him—_  
  
"Bree was right, you know," Vic says, stepping even closer. He puts a finger underneath my chin and tilts it up toward him. "Your lips look extremely lonely."  
  
And then he kisses me.  
  
I barely have time to think,  _Oh my God, he’s kissing me,_  because then he quickly pulls away, biting his lip as if he’s just realized that he’s done something wrong.  
  
"Let’s go to Chicago," he says. Then he heads back inside without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's face it I'm basically dedicating this entire fic to Fall Out Boy


	9. Complicated

Throughout my lifetime, I have been in many awkward situations. However, I have discovered that you don’t know true awkwardness until you’re trapped in a car with the person who has just heard you confess your feelings for him, kissed you, and then moved on like nothing happened. Trapped in a car with him… _for fifteen fucking hours._  
  
We head off just as the sun starts to set, but Vic doesn’t comment on it. He barely says anything; he mostly just drives and smokes a cigarette. I’m quiet, too, but inside, I’m a mess. My mind has been racing ever since the kiss, and my lips still feel like they’re tingling from where they met with his. I want to say something, but what do I say? Vic is acting as if it didn’t even happen, and I don’t know what to make of that. He’s the one who initiated it, but why? If he really has a thing for me, why does he seem like he regrets making a move?  
  
 _Does it have something to do with Craig?_  
  
Once that thought forms, it won’t go away. What if he thinks I’ll hurt him like Craig did? What if he’s afraid for the same reason that I am?  
  
I want to ask him about it, but right now I can’t seem to say anything to him. It’s like my mouth has been sewn shut and my vocal cords have been ripped out. I can come up with a bunch of conversation-starters in my head, but nothing is sufficient enough to follow up that perfect, too short kiss.  
  
Is he thinking about it? I know I am. I can’t stop replaying it in my mind, the feeling of him pulling me in and connecting his soft lips with mine. I want more. I want so much more.  
  
—  
  
"Kellin!"  
  
Vic’s voice is calling out to me, somehow both close and far away at the same time. I’m in a forest, and directly in front of me, I hear him yell again: “Kellin!”  
  
"Vic!" I call back, walking quickly in his direction. It’s not long before the trees start to thin out, and before I know it, I’m bursting out of the forest, right onto a cliff.  
  
There’s a barrier along the edge of it, along with a few benches behind it. Vic is standing in front of one of them, and his face lights up when he sees me.  
  
"Vic!" I say, smiling and rushing toward him. As soon as I’m within reach, he pulls me upward and kisses me fiercely, tangling his fingers in my hair.  
  
"I’ve missed you," he says quietly, pulling away slightly. Then he kisses me again and sits down on the bench, pulling me down with him and setting me on top of him. Straddling him, I caress his cheek as he pushes my shirt up and rolls his hips against mine—  
  
"You’re having a wet dream, aren’t you?"  
  
Vic’s voice—the real Vic, not the one in my dream—breaks through my sleep and wakes me up. I’m breathless and turned on, and the tightening of my pants makes that obvious. Vic has pulled the car over to the side of the road and is staring at me with an expression I can’t read.  
  
"I, uh…y-yeah," I stutter, a blush no doubt staining my cheeks. "I guess so."  
  
 _Fuck, Kellin,_  I think.  _Do you even have any dignity left to lose?_  
  
Vic unbuckles his seatbelt. “Well, you know…I could help you with that.”  
  
I take a deep breath, trying not to focus on my already throbbing dick. “How?”  
  
With a sexy smile, he beckons for me to come toward him. I unbuckle my seatbelt and start to climb over as Vic pulls a lever and lets his seat slide back a little. Then he grabs me by my hips and pulls me down on him, just like in my dream. I don’t even have time to react before he kisses me—for real, for longer than a few seconds, and not for anyone but us.  
  
Hurricanes are rough and wild, and that’s what Vic is. He bites my bottom lip before running his tongue across it as one hand slides underneath my shirt and the other one grabs my ass. There are fireworks in this kiss, and my lips move fast to keep up with his spark. I grind down against him, making myself moan into his mouth.  
  
Vic takes his hand off my ass and starts to palm me through my jeans. I moan louder, feeling myself getting harder and harder. Vic smiles in clear satisfaction.  
  
"Damn you," I mutter against his lips. "I’ll make you fucking scream."  
  
Vic raises his eyebrows, and my face heats up at the realization of what I just said. “Dirty talk?” he whispers, his gaze wandering up and down my body. “I like it.”  
  
With that, he slips his hand into my pants and takes ahold of my shaft. I gasp, quickly undoing my jeans and pushing them down for easier access. Vic pulls me out from my boxers and strokes me, so painfully slow that I can’t help but groan loudly. It feels good, but at the same time, it’s torture.  
  
"More," I plead, pushing myself farther into his hand.  
  
"As you wish," he replies seductively, tightening his grip on me and recapturing my lips with his. I start to squirm a little as he touches me, but his other hand on my back keeps me steady.  
  
Vic lightly brushes his thumb against my tip, causing me to gasp and completely sever the kiss. “Please,” I beg. “Faster.”  
  
He doesn’t disappoint me, flicking his wrist quickly as he massages my entire length. I want to kiss him again, but I can’t stop moaning. I end up biting my lip, which quivers desperately as I try to hold back.  
  
"Are you close?" Vic asks, still hot as ever.  
  
I wrap my arms around his neck, forming fists with my hands. “Y-yes,” I gasp out.  
  
Only a few seconds after that, I reach my climax, gripping his hair as I shoot over my stomach. I lean my head back, my eyes involuntarily fluttering closed as I shake and shudder on top of him. Holy shit, who knew a hand job could feel so  _good_?  
  
Vic slows gradually as I calm down, breathing deeply. “Oh my God,” I pant, resting my head on his shoulder.  
  
"You’re so hot," he says as his hand on my back slides down to my hip. He softly kisses my cheek. "You know that?"  
  
My face heats up, and just like that, I’ve reverted back to my normal self. “I, uh…I…”  
  
"You don’t have to say anything," he says, running his fingers through my hair. "I think I’ve got some tissues in the glove compartment."  
  
Reluctantly, I climb off of him and clean myself with the tissues, pulling my boxers and jeans back up and returning to the passenger seat. Vic is staring at me, looking deep in thought, before he seems to snap out of it and shakes his head. “Damn it,” he mutters in sudden frustration.  
  
I buckle my seatbelt, wanting to ask what’s wrong. But before I can open my mouth, he slides his chair back up and buckles his own seatbelt, then starts the car and returns to the highway without so much as another glance at me.  
  
I, on the other hand, can’t stop looking at him, especially as the realization of what we just did crashes over me. Vic just gave me a fucking hand job…but, just like earlier, he’s acting like it didn’t happen, like it’s completely normal. What the hell? Does he even have feelings for me at all? Or does he just want to use me?  
  
Somehow, even with what just happened and all the thoughts dancing around in my head, I slip into a light, dreamless sleep. When I wake up, it’s still dark outside—only about three in the morning. I glance at Vic, who is smoking and absentmindedly humming “Alone Together”. He seems like he can barely keep his eyes open.  
  
"Hey," I say.  
  
He jumps and turns to me, startled. “Uh, hey.”  
  
"You’re tired," I tell him. It’s not a question. I know he’s tired.  
  
And, of course, Vic doesn’t lie and claim that he isn’t. He just sighs and says, “I know.”  
  
"I could drive the rest of the way," I offer.  
  
He shakes his head, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. “No. I’ll do it.”  
  
"You’re gonna fall asleep at the wheel," I point out.  
  
"No, I’m not." He lifts up his cigarette. "This’ll keep me awake."  
  
"Why won’t you just let me drive for you?"  
  
"Because I don’t fucking trust you," he snaps.  
  
I glance away quickly, letting my hair fall into my face to hide it from him. “Well…okay.”  
  
His voice softens. “Kellin, I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, I swear. I just don’t like being in a car when I’m not the one driving it.”  
  
I look back at him, wondering if there’s a specific reason for that. I don’t ask him, though. I just watch him take a final drag of his cigarette and toss it out the open window.  
  
"Go back to sleep, Kell," he says. "We’ll be okay."  
  
Shortly after that, I do as he says and drift back to sleep. When I wake up, the sun is shining through the car, which is parked on the side of the road, and Vic is sleeping in the driver’s seat. Good. He needed it.  
  
A few strands of hair have fallen into his face, so I brush them away, wondering where we stand with each other. Are we in a relationship now? I don’t think we are, but I don’t know much about these things.  
  
Vic stirs, reaching up to rub his eyes as they slowly blink open. “Kellin?” he says groggily.  
  
I pull my hand away. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
  
He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I would’ve woken up soon anyways.”  
  
I nod, still feeling a bit guilty. “How long until we get to Chicago?”  
  
"Uh, about another five hours, I think. I would’ve kept driving, but…well, we probably would’ve crashed." He laughs a little.  
  
I give him a small smile in return.  _Damn him, with his stupid laugh and his stupid hair and his stupid face and his stupid beautiful personality. I think I hate him. Ugh._  
  
"You blush a lot," he comments, seeming amused.  
  
 _Goddammit._  I didn’t even notice it this time.  
  
"See? It’s getting even brighter," Vic adds, smiling widely. "It’s fucking adorable."  
  
I jut my bottom lip out in a pout. “Last night you said I was hot.”  
  
Now it’s his turn to blush. “You’re hot  _and_  adorable,” he replies smoothly.  
  
Okay, someone correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that most platonic relationships aren’t like this. Maybe I’m just dumb, though.  
  
I glance away, not sure how to respond. When I look back, I see that Vic’s smile has faded, replaced by an expression of regret. “Kellin, I’m sorry,” he says softly.  
  
I narrow my eyes at him. “For what?”  
  
He shakes his head. “For doing and saying all these stupid things.”  
  
"They’re not stupid," I protest. Yes, I realize that just a moment ago I was calling everything about him stupid, but I was using it as a term of endearment. He’s using it as an insult, and that shit isn’t cool.  
  
"Yes, they are, and I’m sorry you have to deal with me." With that, he starts the car and gets back onto the road.  
  
—  
  
"I think the ‘big-ass fountain’ is the Buckingham Fountain," Vic says. We’re at a hotel in Chicago, and, as usual, Vic is on his laptop.  
  
"What’s that?" I ask, sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed.  
  
"It’s a big fountain in Grant Park, one of the largest in the world, I think," he explains. "The ‘centerpiece’ of Chicago, apparently."  
  
"Centerpiece?" I repeat. "That sounds horrifically conspicuous."  
  
Vic nods. “Swimming isn’t exactly allowed, either. You’d get charged for trespassing if you got caught.”  
  
"Well, shit. Bree’s leading us into a life of crime."  
  
"No, she isn’t." He flashes me an evil smile. "Not if we don’t get caught."  
  
—  
  
It’s approximately three in the morning.  
  
We’re standing in front of the Buckingham Fountain, which is large, extravagant, and all lit up in bright colors. Just as we hoped, there is no one around.  
  
"Where is it?" I ask, leaning over the fence and squinting into the water around the fountain.  
  
I can’t see anything out of the ordinary, but after a few moments, Vic points to the left. “There’s something over there,” he says, nodding.  
  
I follow his gaze in the direction that he’s staring, and that’s when I see it, floating around in the water: a small, see-through capsule with a green lid that glows in the dark. There’s something inside of it, and though I can’t tell exactly what it is, I’m willing to bet it’s our next clue.  
  
"So, you’ll jump in and grab it, and I’ll keep watch?" I say, affirming the plan that we made earlier.  
  
"Yep." Vic cracks his knuckles. "Well, here goes nothing."  
  
Then he jumps over the fence and into the fountain, landing with a splash. I wince and turn around, praying that nobody heard that. Luckily, the place stays vacant and quiet except for the sounds of the fountain water and Vic swimming, along with the nearby noise of the city.  
  
"Shit!" he mutters, and I spin back around to see him hovering in the water and rubbing at his eyes. "I forgot. I read somewhere that they put chemicals in here. Fuck. That stings."  
  
"Do you think you’ll be okay?" I ask nervously.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I think I’ll be fine. Hold on." He swims forward, careful to keep his head above the water. A few seconds later, he grabs the capsule and looks up, nodding at me. I glance around to make sure that the coast is still clear (it is), then turn back to him and give him a thumbs-up sign.  
  
Vic swims back to the fence, handing the capsule up to me before pulling himself up and climbing back over the fence. “Fuck, it’s cold,” he says as the water drips off of him and creates a puddle right underneath him.  
  
"Think people will be suspicious if they see a puddle of water and wet footprints?" I say.  
  
He shrugs. “Yeah, but they’ll have no evidence that it was me.”  
  
"They could have the print on the soles of your shoes," I point out.  
  
Vic makes a face and takes his shoes off, picking them up with one hand. “ _Now_  they’ll have no evidence.”  
  
"Good enough for me."  
  
Quickly, we head back out to a nearby bench, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be out at this time of night. When we get there, Vic grabs the towel we left beforehand and dries himself off before setting it down on the bench and sitting on it. I sit next to him, thinking about the fact that on the drive down to San Diego, Lily and I not only mentioned singing karaoke; we also mentioned jumping into a giant fountain. I’ll have to tell her about that later. The next thing I know, I’ll be crashing a fucking wedding.  
  
Raising the capsule in triumph, I turn to Vic and announce, “We made it without getting the cops called on us!”  
  
Vic pumps his fist. “Fuck yes.”  
  
"Shall I open this thing up and reveal our fate?"  
  
He bites his lip, thinking. “Actually,” he says slowly, “I kind of want to do something else.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
He takes the capsule out of my hands and sets it on the ground beside us. He’s staring at me intently, and after a moment of hesitation, he slides closer—close enough that our thighs are touching—and reaches out to softly caress my cheek. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers.  
  
Then, underneath the lights of Chicago, he presses his lips to mine.  
  
He moves them slowly, taking his sweet time, and I kiss back at the same speed, resting one hand on his thigh. The other one I tangle in his still-wet hair, opening my mouth slightly and deepening the kiss. Vic eagerly obliges, pulling me closer to him and running his tongue across mine. I slide my hand slowly up his thigh before stopping near his crotch. He lets out a little groan and pulls away a bit, but only to say, “Oh my God, Kellin.”  
  
I smile and lean forward, but Vic pulls even farther away, letting go of me, and I reluctantly do the same. “What is it?”  
  
Vic sighs, displaying that familiar mixed expression of frustration and regret. Closing his eyes and covering his face with his hand, he says, “Drown me in the fucking fountain, Kellin. Please. I deserve it.”


	10. Fear of Falling

I don’t fall asleep after we get back to the hotel. I can’t stop replaying the scene over and over in my head, of our kiss on the bench. There’s no doubt in my mind that Vic really does have a thing for me—even I can figure that out by now—but just like always, he pretends that we don’t have anything.  
  
I lie awake the whole rest of the night, staring at him in his bed and thinking about him. I think it’s definitely safe to say that I’ve fallen for him, and that’s a thought that terrifies me. What happened the last time I fell for someone? He died, and—as stereotypical as it is to say—I think a part of me died with him.  
  
I can almost picture Jordan lying right next to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer so that my back is up against his chest. He’d play with my hair and rest his head close to my ear, sometimes biting at it playfully. “I love you,” he’d whisper.  
  
And then I’d say it back, feeling like, for once in my life, everything is right.  
  
That’s what I want with Vic, but it’ll probably never happen, and even if it does, it’ll just be taken away. It always gets taken away.  
  
Always.  
  
Why? Because people always leave. Sure, some stay longer than others, and some don’t mean to leave, but they all go away eventually. Life really sucks like that.  
  
Maybe I’m not in too deep. Maybe I can stop giving in to Vic, stop letting him kiss me and touch me and tell me sweet things. Maybe, if I can push him away, he’ll stop chasing me. Maybe I can get over these feelings that I have for him before it’s too late.  
  
—  
  
 _Go to Barnes & Noble (the one at North State Street). Search the children’s section (yes, the children’s section) for a book that most definitely does not look like it belongs in the children’s section._  
  
Damn it, Bree.  
  
"Just watch," Vic says as we walk through the front door of Barnes & Noble. "It’s gonna be porn or something."  
  
I laugh. “Yeah, probably. Guess we’ll have to find out.”  
  
Just like with the playground, as soon as we start searching for the clue, parents give us a bunch of weird looks. I can’t say I blame them—it’s not exactly common to see two twenty-one-year-old guys tearing up the children’s section. A couple of them even lead their kids away from us.  
  
We look everywhere, from behind stacks of books to underneath the shelves. Finally, after it seems like we’ve gone over every possible hiding place in the section, Vic calls, “Kellin, I think I found it!”  
  
I head over to where he’s standing, in front of one of the shelves. He holds up a random children’s book that’s suspiciously large before pulling another book out of it. This one is not a children’s book. This one is a book of sex positions. Gay sex positions, to be specific.  
  
"Oh my God," I say, trying not to choke on my laughter. "Bree is such a pervert."  
  
"See, I told you it’d be porn," Vic says, flipping through the book and making various faces of exaggerated interest at some of the pictures in it. "Oh, yes. I am definitely getting some whips and chains," he comments, and I laugh, blushing a little at the sudden thought of him taking his clothes off.  
  
 _Whoa there, Kellin. Back it up._  
  
At that moment, a piece of paper falls out of the book, and Vic grabs it off the floor. “And there it is. The paper that once again seals our fate.”  
  
I don’t respond at first, mostly because my conscience is now going on a long rant:  _Don’t think like that, Kell. That hand job he gave you the other night? It was just a hand job. All those kisses? They were just kisses, and they’re the last ones you’ll ever get from him. Remember that._  
  
"Uh, yeah," I say, taking the clue from him and opening it up. "Let’s see what’s next."  
  
 _Yorktown Center. Victoria’s Secret. One of the mannequins knows where the clue is._  
  
Damn it, Bree.  
  
—  
  
Yorktown Center is a mall west of Chicago, apparently. We head there immediately after putting the gay sex book back in its proper place (and receiving many more weird looks). Despite the humiliation that is most likely about to ensue, Vic is cheerful as we make our way through the mall to Victoria’s Secret. I think he even flirts with me a little bit, but I’m not paying much attention anymore. I’ve decided to turn off those feelings and pretend I don’t care. It’s hard, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job of it. It’s even harder because Vic seems to realize what I’m doing, causing the cheeriness to fade away a little.  
  
 _I’m sorry, Vic,_  I think.  _But I can’t handle the pain you’re going to cause me._  
  
Sure enough, the second we walk into the store, everyone looks up and sees us. No doubt they’re all thinking we’re perverts or just wondering what the hell we’re doing in here.  
  
"We, uh, we lost a bet," I lie quickly. Vic catches on and nods sheepishly in agreement.  
  
Now their gazes are mostly filled with amusement, though they still keep a close eye on us.  
  
Vic and I exchange glances. “Split up again?” he says.  
  
I nod, and then we’re off, going around and searching all the mannequins dressed up in fancy lingerie. I’m guessing that the clue is in the clothes that they’re wearing, and I try to be as inconspicuous as possible about checking them.  
  
"Find anything?" Vic asks, passing me as I make my way to the back of the store. I’m about to shake my head when I notice one of the mannequins a few feet in front of me. Sticking out of the black lace underwear displayed on it, just barely peeking out from the fabric, is a small slip of paper.  
  
"Yeah, right there," I reply, reaching forward and grabbing it. I turn around and find that almost everyone in the store is staring at us again (or maybe they never stopped).  
  
"Don’t ask what that is," Vic says, about the clue. He points to me. "His ex is ruthless. We’ll get out now."  
  
As I stated before, I’ve been in many awkward situations. However, I must say that the next five seconds, of us speed-walking out of Victoria’s Secret, have to go somewhere in my top ten list of most awkward situations.  
  
Vic and I both let out a breath of relief once we’re away from it. “Well, at least it was quick,” Vic says.  
  
"Yeah, thank God," I agree, unfolding the paper. "Well, here we go again."  
  
 _Be a scientist. Ride a roller coaster.  
Song: Pittsburgh - The Amity Affliction_  
  
Vic makes a face. “So I guess we’re headed to Pittsburgh now.”  
  
—  
  
"Kellin, I demand that you provide an explanation for the other day’s conversation."  
  
I don’t have to ask what Matty means. I know exactly what he means. He means what I said about falling in love with Vic.  
  
"Not right now, Matty," I tell him. I’m sitting in the passenger seat as Vic drives us to Pittsburgh. If I talk about it, he’d hear every word I say.  
  
"What? Dude, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!"  
  
"Well, I am," I say, my words coming out colder than I expected them to. "For now. Maybe later."  
  
"Okay, fine. But I  _will_  get an explanation, Kellin Quinn!”  
  
I laugh a little. In all honesty, I don’t know when I’m going to talk to him about this whole thing, if ever. I’ve already decided that it doesn’t matter, that I’m going to shut it away. I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll just make me crave Vic more.  
  
After I’m done chatting with Matty and hang up, I don’t really say much, and Vic doesn’t, either. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but I don’t really want to know. I just hope it’s not me.  
  
At the same time, though, I hope it is.  
  
But that hope needs to be pushed down, disposed of, destroyed. It’s for my own good. Vic will not get the best of me. I won’t let him.  
  
For most of the drive, we sit in an awkward silence that I try to make less awkward by playing games on my phone to pass the time. Then, at around eight or nine, as Vic suddenly pulls over to the side of the road, tossing his cigarette out the window, he says, “Okay, I can’t keep this in anymore.”  
  
I think I have an idea of what “this” is. Still, I ask anyways: “Keep what in?”  
  
Vic sighs and turns to face me. “Kellin, I know you’ve probably already figured this out already—because, I mean, you’re not stupid—but I like you. A lot. And that’s, um…” He glances down at his lap, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “That’s been causing some problems for me.”  
  
I nod. “I, um…I’ve noticed.”  
  
He bites his lip. “Kellin,” he says slowly, “do you remember what I said the night that I found out my parents were getting divorced? How I said that nothing good ever comes from love? That nothing ever lasts?”  
  
I nod again. He and I seem to share a similar view on these things.  
  
"Well, that’s because…Craig, he—"  
  
"You don’t have to tell me about him," I interrupt, hearing the automatic cracking of his voice at Craig’s name.  
  
"It wasn’t just him, though," Vic continues. "It was  _everyone_. Every single fucking one of them. I let them all in, and every time I thought that maybe this one would be different. But they never were. And I’m terrified, Kell. I want you to be different. But I don’t want to get my hopes up.”  
  
I almost cry for him right there, because he sounds so angry and desperate and upset. “Vic…”  
  
"I act before I think, too," he adds. "So I’ll kiss you, and then I’ll remember that that’s not a good idea, and then I’ll shut you out and try to push you away, and I know that it might hurt you, but I can’t seem to stop doing it—"  
  
"Vic," I interrupt again.  
  
He looks up at me. “Yeah?”  
  
"I understand," I say softly, and I mean it. "I understand that fear. I understand what it feels like to try to shut out someone you wish you didn’t have feelings for. I’m…I’m terrified, too."  
  
There. I’ve said it.  
  
Vic reaches a hand out and rests it on mine. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he whispers, leaning forward. “I’d never leave you if you didn’t want me to.”  
  
That phrase makes me think about that night he mentioned, about the scene in the taxi, where I told him I’d never leave him. I wonder if he remembers me saying that.  
  
Then I think of pulling away from him, of ending this conversation and moving on with my life still trying to ignore him. But I’ll admit it now: I don’t want to. I don’t want to push him away.  
  
So I don’t.  
  
"Can we maybe…start over?" I ask. "Let go of what’s been holding us back?"  
  
Vic smiles a little. “Easier said than done. But yes. I’d love to.”  
  
With that, he leans in closer and kisses me like it’s the first time. His lips taste like cigarette smoke, but that doesn’t bother me. I’m used to smoke-stained lips.  
  
So, without hesitation, I kiss him back and let everything else go.


	11. The World Is Ugly, But You're Beautiful to Me

Vic Fuentes is the best fucking kisser. Nothing can convince me otherwise.  
  
"Oh my God," I moan against his lips. Once again, we’re making out in the driver’s seat of the car. I’m straddling him, wrapping my hands around his neck and moving my hips on top of him.  
  
Vic makes an unintelligible sound in response, his grip on my ass tightening as he holds me even closer. He breaks the kiss off, latching his lips onto my neck and kissing it softly. My breath hitches, and I tilt my head up to give him better access. “Vic,” I breathe. “Stop f-fucking teasing me.”  
  
Vic simply hums against my skin, switching from kissing to biting. He trails his fingers underneath my shirt and across my chest, so light I think it might not be real. “More,” I beg, grinding down on him.  
  
He tries to hold back his moan, resulting in a noise that resembles a growl. “You always seem so innocent, Kells,” he teases, smirking and biting harder. “I love this other side of you.”  
  
“ _Ungh_ ,” I reply, closing my eyes and grinding a bit more.  
  
Vic gasps. “Kellin,” he whispers, pulling his lips away from my neck. “I…I want you.”  
  
That brief pause is enough for me to revert back to my shy, nervous self. “I…no,” I stutter, still breathless. “I’m not…I don’t think I’m ready.”  
  
For a moment I’m afraid he’ll be mad, but he just smoothes my hair down, his gaze affectionate. “Okay,” he says, and that is that.  
  
I smile, resting my head on his shoulder. What was heated only a moment ago is slowing down into something soft and sweet.  
  
"But I have a question," Vic adds, his fingers still combing through my hair. "Kellin, are we, like…dating?"  
  
I smile wider, feeling on top of the world. “If you want us to be,” I say, “then absolutely.”  
  
—  
  
We arrive in Pittsburgh less than half an hour later and check in to our hotel. Vic decides that he wants to take me out somewhere, since neither of us are tired. “As a sort of celebration,” he explains. “For us.”  
  
I don’t stop him—God knows he loves to take me places. We end up at a fairly nice restaurant with Vic’s arm around my waist up until we sit down in our seats, across from each other. He then takes my hand and starts playing with my fingers, like a little kid. It’s interesting how he can so quickly switch from sexy and dominant to innocent and affectionate. I like it.  
  
"So talk to me," he says after the waiter takes our orders. "Tell me your life story."  
  
I snort, staring at his fingers as he continues to mess around with mine. “Nah, I’d rather not. My life isn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows.”  
  
He pouts, acting like he’s only teasing, but think I can see something else in his expression—something that’s actually a bit sad, as if he doesn’t like the thought of bad things happening to me. “Fine,” he says in an exaggeratedly whiny tone of voice. “Then let’s skip the serious shit. Just…I don’t know. I feel like…like I know you, but at the same time I don’t.”  
  
"What do you mean?" I ask, but I understand what he means. There’s so much we still don’t know about each other, and I want to know everything about him.  
  
"Well, like…how much do I actually know about you?" Vic says. "I know that your name’s Kellin Quinn Bostwick, but you don’t use Bostwick." He removes his hands from mine and starts ticking things off with his fingers as he speaks. "I know you’re twenty-one years old, your birthday is April 24, and you’re sexy as fuck."  
  
"That last part is bullshit," I interrupt, my face heating up.  
  
"No, it’s not," Vic replies smoothly, sticking his tongue out. " _Anyways._  I know that you have an ex-girlfriend named Bree, but you’re gay. I know that you have a best friend named Matty who’s a guy and thinks that I’m a serial killer. I know that you’re from Oregon and that you’re incredibly awkward.”  
  
"Seems like you know quite a bit about me," I tease. "And I’ll have you know I’m normally not this awkward around most people."  
  
"Oh, really?" Vic raises an eyebrow, his smile curling farther up on one side than on the other. "And what makes me an exception, dear Kellin?"  
  
 _God, I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate you for all these stupid fucking butterflies in my stomach._  
  
"Just…you," I say. "Because I’m, uh…" I bite my lip.  
  
He just looks at me, amused. “Because you’re what?”  
  
My face is probably bright red right now. He has to already know the thing I’m about to say, but I’ve never actually said it to him, and it just feels weird. “Because I’m, uh, in love with you.”  
  
So much for not being serious.  
  
Vic stares at me in surprise, as if he’s actually shocked about this. “Really?”  
  
I give him a small, reassuring smile. “Well, I mean, yeah. Of course.”  
  
Before he can respond to that, Vic seems to notice something behind me, and it causes his entire expression to change. “I…oh my God.” He blinks rapidly, bringing his hand up to his face. “Don’t say that. Oh my God, never say anything like that to me again.” He stands up suddenly, paler than usual and looking like he’s about to be sick.  
  
"Vic, hold on, sit down," I say, narrowing my eyes. "What’s going on?"  
  
"Craig," he blurts, before leaving the table and rushing to the nearby bathroom.  
  
I glance behind me at a table not too far away. On one side is Bree, and on the other sits a tall, broad-shouldered guy with light hair and tattoos. Neither of them seem to have noticed us; they’re just talking. I think that’s the same guy I saw in the driver’s seat of the car that Vic claimed to be Craig’s. That must be him.  
  
I don’t even know this guy, but I already hate him because of the way Vic has acted whenever he’s been mentioned. After one more glance at him, I get up from the table and head to the bathroom.  
  
There’s nobody in here except for me and Vic, who is inside one of the stalls and breathing heavily. “Vic,” I say, standing outside the stall’s door. “It’s okay.”  
  
"No," he replies, voice cracked and trembling slightly. "No. I…I’m crazy. I have to be crazy. He can’t be here. He said he never wanted to see me again."  
  
I sigh. God, this hurts. “Vic, he’s here. You’re not crazy.”  
  
His breath hitches.  
  
"I think he’s just helping Bree," I add. "He couldn’t have known that you’d be with me. He’s probably been with her this whole time."  
  
The door opens, and Vic steps out, taking a deep breath and brushing his hair out of his face. He looks a bit shaken.  
  
"I should stop this," he says. "Stop…letting my emotions control me."  
  
"It’s not your fault," I tell him. "Emotions are a bitch."  
  
He sighs, stepping past me and starting to pace back and forth in the small bathroom. “People make it seem so easy,” he says. “Controlling it. Holding it all in.”  
  
"Well, don’t hold it all in," I say.  _Not like I do._  
  
"I’m a freak if I don’t," he replies, biting his lip.  
  
I want to tell him,  _You’re not a freak. You’re beautiful. Inside and out._  But the words get stuck in my throat, so I just hold my hand out and say, “Let’s go back. It’ll be okay.”  
  
He nods slowly, taking my hand. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. “Out there. When I told you…not to say things like that to me. I didn’t mean it.”  
  
I step forward, pecking his lips. “Then I’ll say it again,” I say, surprised at how bold I’m being. “I’m in love with you.”  
  
—  
  
"To the Carnegie Science Center we go," Vic announces.  
  
It’s the next morning, and he seems to be in a better mood, though there’s still something a bit off about him. I don’t think he’s gotten over last night’s sighting of Craig yet. I don’t blame him—it must be horrible, having someone who hurt you just turn up without warning at a place you’d never expect them to be. I want to make it better, but I don’t know how or what to say. So, as usual, I stay silent.  
  
Vic can’t stop kissing me. I don’t think it’s for any particular reason, other than the fact that, well, he loves to kiss me. I’m not complaining; I love to kiss him. I’m just happy that everything between us is finally out in the open. Finally, it’s not just a crush. We’re actually dating.  
  
I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that.  _Dating._  Vic and I are _dating_. He actually thinks of me as a  _boyfriend_. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.  
  
"Wait," I say as we climb into the car. "Why are we going to the Carnegie Science Center?"  
  
"Because it’s a main attraction in Pittsburgh, and Bree did tell us to be scientists. Also, I found out that apparently they have some sort of roller coaster simulator, so that’s how the roller coaster bit fits in."  
  
I shrug. “Okay. That seems legit. Let’s go be fucking scientists.”  
  
The Carnegie Science Center is large, with multiple floors and a bunch of shit to do. According to Vic, there are medical exhibits, exhibits involving weather, robots, and a physical activity-type center in a separate building, among other things. The roller coaster simulator is (once again, according to Vic) in the physical activity place, so that’s where we head first.  
  
This part of the science center seems to be all in one large room, with a bunch of different activities. Vic points out a ride on one side of the room. “That’s it, I think,” he says, as two people climb inside of it.  
  
I shrug. “Let’s see.”  
  
He leads me over to the short line for the ride, which is when I notice a screen right outside of it. It seems to be showing a roller coaster course—multiple ones, actually. “Do we get to choose what course we go on, then?” I ask.  
  
Vic nods. “I’m pretty sure. Then the simulator moves and shifts in coordination with whatever course is chosen, I think.”  
  
Good thing I don’t get motion sickness.  
  
After about ten minutes, it’s finally our turn. The guy running the thing gives me a funny look when he sees me, as if he recognizes me. That’s when I remember that we’re supposed to get a clue from this. Maybe Bree showed this guy a picture of me or something so he’d know who to look for.  
  
Vic and I are put into the seats, and as the simulator closes us inside it, Vic chooses the course. Sure enough, as the screen shows the coaster going up the first hill, the simulator tilts upward. What then ensues is a series of twists and turns that makes me feel, to some degree, like I’m actually on some sort of roller coaster. It’s a bit hotter and darker, though, with the absence of wind and screaming people.  
  
Afterward, as Vic and I are climbing out, slightly disoriented, the guy running the ride discreetly passes me a slip of paper. He nods at me, and I nod back.  
  
Vic and I move over to an edge of the room, where we’re not standing right in the middle of it. “Well, that was surprisingly not mortifying,” Vic says. “What does this next clue tell us to do?”  
  
I shrug, opening the paper up.  
  
 _Two words: Duquesne. Incline. After that, take a little walk around at the top. Crash a wedding. (This will be tomorrow night.)_  
  
Vic makes a face. “Okay, forget the wedding for a second. How the hell are you supposed to pronounce that?” he asks, pointing at the word “Duquesne”.  
  
“ _Du-kayn_ , I think,” I reply. “Pretty sure the  _S_  is silent.”  
  
Vic nods. “Alright then. So it seems like we’re going to crash a wedding next.”  
  
"So it seems," I agree.  
  
At this point, I smile in a sudden realization that this is yet another thing Lily and I joked about doing. The other night, in Chicago, I thought to myself that one of these days I’d end up crashing a wedding. It seems that tomorrow will be that day.  
  
I turn to Vic. “We’re not going back to the hotel yet, are we?”  
  
He shakes his head. “Hell no. It’s like when we were at that water park. We’re getting our money’s worth. Let’s be fucking scientists, Kell.”  
  
—  
  
"Kellin?"  
  
I turn to look at Vic. We’re back at the hotel, both of us lying on my bed. It’s late. “Yeah?”  
  
"I want to do something."  
  
I think I know what the something is, so flash him a smile and lean forward slightly. “Okay. Then do it.”  
  
For a moment, Vic looks dumbstruck as he stares at me. Then he snaps out of it and pulls me in by my shirt, kissing me roughly.  
  
I fall onto my back, and Vic climbs on top of me, taking hold of my wrists and pinning them to the bed. He’s moving fast, running his tongue across my lips, and I open my mouth to let it meet mine. He grinds down against me, causing me to moan and him to smirk.  
  
"You’re so. Fucking. Hot," I whisper against his lips. "I hate you for it."  
  
He laughs, voice low and sexy. “No, you don’t,” he sings, running a hand through my hair and letting his lips hover teasingly above mine.  
  
"Just keep kissing me, you bastard," I demand, with a need to taste him in my mouth.  
  
Vic shakes his head, still smirking. “Nope.” With that, he litters tiny kisses on my neck and collarbone, unbuttoning my shirt before sliding it off of me and exposing my chest. He kisses my skin some more, moving down my body painfully slowly as his hands grip my hips. Those tiny kisses light me on fire.  
  
"You are  _illegal_ ,” I spit desperately, my eyes fluttering open and closed.  
  
"No. You’re just really,  _really_  hot for me.” Vic sticks his tongue out, flicking it against my hips before he starts biting them.  
  
I let out a soft moan.  _God._  
  
Then Vic’s hands shift; he’s moved to undoing my jeans. It’s at that moment, right when he’s about to pull them down, that I blurt, “Stop.”  
  
Vic glances up at me. Without even questioning, he shifts away. “Okay.”  
  
We’re both breathing a bit heavily, and part of me wants him more than anything, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel quite right. I don’t know if I’m completely okay with us going  _all the way_.  
  
I do my jeans back up and put on my shirt, though I leave it unbuttoned. “Vic, I’m sorry.”  
  
Vic gets up and turns off the lights. (We were just about ready to go to sleep anyways.) “It’s okay,” he says, about to climb into his bed.  
  
"Wait," I say.  
  
Vic stops in his tracks, glancing over at me in confusion.  
  
I hesitate for a moment. I’m so used to doing everything alone. It’s safer that way.  _But…_  
  
"Stay. Please."  
  
Vic seems to know what I mean immediately. “Of course.”  
  
I crawl under the covers of my bed, and he crawls in with me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer as I bury my face in his chest. He feels so warm and comforting, his arms seeming to protect me from the outside world.  
  
"Really, I’m sorry," he says softly, his hand rubbing calming circles on my back. "I tend to…to get lost in the physical aspects, because they don’t scare me as much."  
  
I look up at him. “As much as what?” But I think I already know.  
  
"As much as…well, as actually caring about someone. But it’s too late for me now, because I already care about you. A lot." He kisses me on the top of my head.  
  
I close my eyes. God, I’ve missed this feeling.  
  
To be honest, it isn’t the sex itself that bothers me when I think about doing it with Vic. It’s everything that comes with having sex as a result. I feel like it’ll change things between us, make things seem more long-term. And in a weird way, I feel like if I do that, I’m betraying Jordan.  
  
I want to get over that feeling. Jordan’s gone now, and he’s never coming back. But he was the guy who took my virginity, the only guy I’ve ever had sex with. After we did it for the first time, we knew we were in that relationship for the long run. I know that’s not the way it is with everyone, but that’s the way it is with me. It feels like I’m giving myself completely over to the other person, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to tie that knot with Vic just yet. I’m not sure if I want to break my walls down that far.  
  
But I  _do_  know this: I like what we have right now. I like it a lot. I like him in the same bed as me and his lips on my skin. I like the sweet words he whispers to me and the way he looks at me as if I’m the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. I like  _him_.  
  
We stay that way for a while. Right before I slip into unconsciousness, I think I hear him crying, but sleep pulls me under before I can be sure.  
  
—  
  
When I wake up at around one or two in the morning, there is a distinct lack of warmth, a distinct lack of arms around me, a distinct lack of fingers in my hair. Specifically, there is a distinct lack of Vic.  
  
And that scares me.  
  
I check everywhere, but just like the last time he disappeared in the middle of the night, he’s not here. He’s gone.  
  
I grab my phone and call him, praying that he took his phone with him, praying that he’ll hear it ring.  
  
 _Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick up—_  
  
He picks up.  
  
"Kellin?" he says, and the relief I feel at the sound of his voice is quickly erased when I hear how cracked and panicked it is.  
  
"Vic?" I say.  
  
There’s a lot of loud background noise, but I can clearly hear his shaky breaths and slurred words. He’s drunk.  
  
"Kell," he rasps. "Kell, I think I’m dying."  
  
Terror grips me as soon as I hear those words, followed by memories crashing over my head. Oh my God,  _Vic_.  
  
"Where are you?" I manage to get out through the fear clogging my throat.  
  
Vic describes where he is, and as I rush out the door and down to the lobby, I tell him, “Hold on, Vic. It’ll be okay.”  
  
"I hope so, Kells."  
  
When Vic left, he must’ve been on foot, because his car is still in the parking lot. I jump into the driver’s seat, which feels a bit strange, and turn the car on. It isn’t too hard to figure out, so soon I’m speeding away, my heart racing.  
  
Vic, what the hell did you do to yourself this time?  
  
And  _why_?  
  
My breathing seems to get faster and faster with every moment that passes, until I think I’m going to throw up because I’m hyperventilating so much. My hands are shaking, and part of me thinks I might crash the car before I even get to Vic.  
  
Finally, I end up in front of the club he mentioned and park there. He’s not anywhere outside of it, so after showing my ID to the bouncer, I rush inside.  
  
It’s crowded, loud, chaotic, and bright. I don’t even bother calling out Vic’s name, because it’ll just get lost in all the noise and disorder. Instead, I push my way to the bathroom as my head starts to spin and my hands and feet start to tingle. I know I’m going to pass out if I don’t control my breathing, but I’m so fucking scared that I can’t.  
  
"Vic!" I yell when I enter the bathroom. It seems empty, but then, from one of the stalls, I hear a familiar voice groan.  
  
I open the stall door, and there he is, leaning up against one wall. “Kellin,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning again. “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”  
  
He’s sobbing, hyperventilating even more than I’ve been, and sounds like he’s about to make himself sick. He looks just as bad as he did the last time.  
  
"Can you stand?" I ask.  
  
He shrugs, so I hold my hand out for him. He takes it and tries to pull himself up, but I have to help him, and when he attempts to stand on his own, he ends up having to use the wall for support. He blinks rapidly, a pained expression on his face. “I’m so fucking dizzy, Kells.”  
  
I put an arm around his waist. “I know.”  
  
As I lead him out of the bathroom and then out of the club, he stumbles with every step he takes. “I’m trying not to—not to pass out,” he tells me. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do this…whole time.”  
  
I don’t know what to say, so I just keep guiding him slowly out, then help him into the passenger seat of the car. When he sees me hopping into the driver’s seat, his bloodshot eyes widen, and he seems to panic even more.  
  
"Let me drive," he says, wincing and holding his head with one hand.  
  
"Are you crazy?" I say, starting to pull the car out of the parking lot. "You can’t drive when you’re like this, Vic."  
  
"Let me drive," he repeats, sounding desperate and afraid.  
  
"No," I insist. "It’ll be okay, don’t worry."  
  
Vic starts crying harder, and then I hear him whisper faintly, “You’re smart, Kellin. If I were driving, I’d crash this car on purpose. I want to fucking die.”  
  
I nearly swerve out of control when I hear that last sentence.  
  
"I want to die, Kellin," he sobs, louder. "I h-hate this. I hate all of this. I hate _me_.”  
  
I don’t know how to help him.  
  
I drive as fast as I can back to the hotel. Vic seems to be on the brink of passing out, but I manage to successfully lead him up to our room. He falls into the bed, letting out a soft sound of distress, and I climb in with him, brushing his hair away from his face and letting him get it all out. He grips my t-shirt and cries into it until he seems to fall out of consciousness.  
  
I stare at him for a few seconds as my brain catches up with my body. Up until now, I was so focused on getting him back here that I didn’t have much time to register everything that was happening.  
  
And it is at this moment that I lose it and burst into tears.  
  
I hate it, but once I start, I can’t stop. I bawl into my pillow, so hard and fast I think I might just stop breathing. I keep replaying everything over and over again my head, hearing Vic’s voice:  _Kell, I think I’m dying._  And then, _I want to fucking die._  
  
The memories that came back when he first answered my call were memories of a night some months ago. Jordan and I had been sleeping together, when I woke up in the middle of the night to discover him on the floor, about to die because of the sickness inside of him. He said that exact same thing to me:  _Kell, I think I’m dying._  I thought I’d never feel that fear again. I thought I’d never let anyone else in to that point. I was wrong.  
  
"You scared the shit out of me, Vic," I sob, though I know he can’t hear me. "I’ve only ever been that terrified one other time in my life. God, Vic, why do you do this to yourself?"  
  
And that’s when I say it.  
  
"Vic, you can’t hear me, but I think I fucking love you."


	12. I Like Your Starry Eyes

I have quite possibly the worst dream I’ve ever experienced.  
  
It’s more of a montage, really, a collection of images and scenes that make me want to throw up. And in every single one of them, Vic is dying.  
  
He hangs himself. He overdoses. He jumps off a bridge. He shoots himself. He crashes his car. And every fucking time, he somehow ends up holding onto my hand, whispering my name, telling me goodbye, apologizing.  
  
When I wake up, I’m hyperventilating, my body shaking, my heart beating so fast I think it’s going to burst, tears running down my cheeks with no sign of slowing down. I bury my face into his chest in an attempt to remind myself that he’s still here and still alive. He must be at least half-awake, because though his eyes are still shut, he pulls me closer to him, rubbing my back and whispering, “It was just a dream, Kells. It’s not real. You’re okay now.”  
  
I want to tell him that dreams don’t just come from nowhere, that they’re based on what’s real even if they themselves aren’t. I want to say,  _I know I’m okay. The question is: Are you?_  
  
But I don’t. I just cry my eyes out all over again and pray that if I fall back asleep, there won’t be any more of this.  
  
—  
  
Everything feels different in the morning.  
  
Vic’s hangover is God-awful, probably the worst he’s had since I’ve been with him. I want to help him, but I don’t know how, so he suffers on his own and doesn’t say anything.  
  
"Are you okay?" I ask him. Dumb question.  
  
"No," he replies, his voice a bit raspy. Of course he isn’t, and of course he doesn’t lie and say he is.  
  
I wonder how much he remembers. I wonder if he remembers telling me that he wanted to die.  
  
I wonder if he meant it.  
  
I know he went unconscious before I started crying (the first time), but somehow, I feel like he can tell that I did, even though he doesn’t seem to remember me sobbing over my dream. I feel like he knows what I said to him.  
  
 _I think I fucking love you._  
  
Those words scare the hell out of me, and what scares me even more is the fact that I meant it when I said it. I think I still do. I think I might be starting to love him.  
  
It’s crazy to even be considering that—I haven’t known him for that long, yet he already feels closer to me than people I’ve been friends with for years. He’s different from anyone else I’ve ever met, and I love that about him.  
  
But do I really love him?  
  
Throughout the mainly uneventful day, I work on pushing those thoughts out of my mind as Vic mostly rests and feels like shit. Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things, and though I’ve already accepted being in love with Vic, I’m not sure about actually  _loving_ him.  
  
"Do you think you’re gonna be okay for tonight?" I ask him at one point.  
  
He’s lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I think so. It’s getting better as the day goes on. Now it’s only this damn headache.”  
  
I nod slowly as I lie on my own bed. “Well, that’s good.”  
  
Vic turns his head to look at me. “Kell?”  
  
I meet his gaze. “Yeah?”  
  
"I’m sorry. About what happened last night." There’s pain in his eyes, and it kills me.  
  
"It’s okay. Really." After a short pause, I decide to do something I never do. I decide to talk about something instead of keeping it all inside. "Vic," I say softly, "do you remember what you said to me? Last night?"  
  
Vic narrows his eyes and seems to think for a moment before shaking his head.  
  
I take a deep breath, starting to feel sick just at the thought of those words. “You told me you wanted to die, Vic.”  
  
I can see the alarm clear on his face. “I did?”  
  
I nod, feeling tears come out of nowhere and run down my face.  _Shit._  Not again.  
  
Vic climbs off his bed and lies down on mine, next to me, brushing my tears away and staring right into my eyes. “Kellin. Kellin, it’s okay. I was drunk. I was upset. I didn’t mean it, okay? I don’t want to die.”  
  
Then he smiles at me, but that just makes me cry harder, because that smile is sad and crooked. I think this is the first time he’s ever lied to me.  
  
—  
  
Vic and I go to the Duquesne Incline right as the sun starts to set. The clue didn’t specifically say what time the wedding would be at—just that it’d be tonight—so it looks like we’re going to have to do some guesswork and hope for the best.  
  
The incline is on the side of a mountain, and we take a ride up to the top so we can look out at Pittsburgh. Vic holds my hand the whole way up, because he knows how much I hate heights, and it feels nice. He doesn’t tell me to just “get over” the stupid fear; he helps me with it.  
  
The ride itself actually isn’t that terrifying, since we’re in a completely enclosed space—though that doesn’t stop my mind from wondering what would happen if the thing broke—but after we get dropped off at the top, my heart starts beating faster. Vic and I skip the main tourist attractions and souvenirs and head straight out to the side of the road. There are actual buildings here that we walk past until we get to the very edge of the mountain.  
  
"Holy shit," I whisper at the sight of the city and the water surrounding it. I squeeze Vic’s hand as he leads me slowly up to the ledge. There are little areas split off from the main sidewalk—almost like a city clearing—where we can look right out over the railing, and this is one of them.  
  
Vic leans casually against the railing. “It’s okay,” he says, tapping it with his free hand. “This’ll keep us from falling.”  
  
"But it could break while you’re leaning against it," I point out, biting my lip. "And then you’d fall."  
  
"It won’t break," he assures me, but he takes a step back anyways. I think that’s to make me feel safer, and it does.  
  
"So," he says slowly. "How are we gonna crash this wedding?"  
  
I make a face. “Uh…knock some stuff over, slap a dude, kiss another dude, and rip some girl’s dress?”  
  
"You’d better not be kissing some other dude," Vic says, sticking his tongue out at me. "What if we knocked the arch over or something? I mean, they probably already know that we’re gonna crash their wedding. As soon as we do that, someone’ll give us our next clue, and then we’ll be on our way."  
  
I nod slowly. “Well, we should probably find the wedding first.”  
  
"Good point."  
  
With that, we leave the area and return to the main sidewalk, walking slowly and searching for any signs of a wedding as the sky darkens around us. Just as I’m starting to lose hope, Vic points at one of the little areas up ahead, and that’s when I see it.  
  
Closer to the sidewalk are benches where people in nice outfits are sitting, their backs turned to us. In front of them is a fancy arch, and underneath, a pastor is speaking to two guys in tuxedos. One of them has long, bright red hair that reminds me of a firetruck, while the other is short, with dark hair and a bunch of tattoos. I can faintly hear the pastor talking to Firetruck Hair, saying, “Do you, Gerard Way, take Frank Iero as your lawfully wedded husband…”  
  
"I didn’t know Pennsylvania legalized same-sex marriage," I mutter. "Awesome. One more point for the gays."  
  
"World domination is within our reach," Vic replies.  
  
"How are we supposed to knock over the arch?" I ask. "We can’t just walk up there and try to do it, can we?"  
  
Vic shrugs, glancing over his shoulder. “Hey,” he says, pointing at a kid walking past us and bouncing a basketball. “We could use that.” Before I can say anything, he raises his voice a bit: “Hey, kid!”  
  
The kid turns his head around.  
  
"Can I use that real quick? I promise I’ll give it back," Vic says, nodding toward the basketball. "We just need to do something."  
  
Skeptically, the kid tosses the ball, which I catch without even thinking. When Vic shoots me a look of surprise, I explain, “I played basketball in, like, fifth grade.”  
  
"Then you should be the one to throw it," he says. "I suck at basketball."  
  
I bite my lip. “I don’t know. I’m not great at throwing things.”  
  
"Well, you’re more qualified than I am."  
  
We turn back to the wedding at the moment that the pastor says, “You may now kiss the groom.” Then Frank flashes Gerard a quick smile before stepping forward and kissing him.  
  
I’ll admit, it’s a pretty beautiful sight, and I kind of don’t want to ruin it with the basketball. Then again, they know it’s going to happen.  
  
I throw the ball.  
  
It turns out to be perfect, slamming into the arch and toppling it over. Frank and Gerard keep on kissing as it falls behind them, and when they pull away, they both turn to the sidewalk.  
  
I wave at them awkwardly as everyone stares at us. “Uh, hi. I think we just crashed your wedding. Kind of. Sort of.”  
  
All the other people look mildly horrified, but Frank and Gerard both have smiles on their faces. Frank pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Can we assume that you’re here for this?” he asks, his voice lower than I expected. “And that you’re not just some random wedding crashers?”  
  
"You can assume that," Vic replies as we make our way up to them. I take the paper from Frank, and Vic grabs the basketball from where it landed on the ground and casually tosses it back to the kid, as if things like this happen all the time.  
  
"Alright," Gerard says as Vic and I start to walk away. "Now let’s dance. Fuck the arch."  
  
We head quickly down the sidewalk, giving little explanation to anyone who asks us what the hell just happened. Once we’re sure that we’ve left the scene behind us, we slow down, and Vic takes my hand again, leading me to the railing of another one of those areas. I’m not as nervous this time, reassuring myself that I’m safe with him.  
  
It’s a lot darker out now, so the lights of the city seem to illuminate everything. Even all the way up here, it feels like they’re shining on us.  
  
"God," Vic breathes, his face drawn into a state of innocent wonder at the view. "I’ll never get tired of things like this." It makes me happy, that childish amazement of his. It shows that the world hasn’t fucked him up enough that he can’t feel that anymore.  
  
I nod, smiling at him. “This is really awesome,” I agree, but I’m not thinking about the view as much. I’m thinking about what it would be like to do this whole thing without him. I can’t imagine it. I can’t imagine doing it alone, and I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else, either. It’s like this trip, this crazy scavenger hunt, was meant only for us.  
  
"Hey," I say, suddenly remembering something that Bree stated in her very first clue. "This trip’s almost over."  
  
That seems to catch Vic off-guard. “It is?”  
  
I nod. “Yeah. Bree said there would be seven cities, and I just realized that this is the fifth one. Vegas, Salt Lake City, Colorado Springs, Chicago…Pittsburgh. We’ve only got two more places after this.”  
  
After a long pause, Vic quietly says, “Oh.” Then, after another pause, he adds, “I don’t want it to be over.”  
  
"Me neither," I say, feeling a sudden wave of sadness that kills my good mood. What’ll happen when we get back to San Diego? I can’t stay there forever. I have to go back home. How will we keep in touch? Is our relationship going to turn long-distance? And will it even work out?  
  
"I don’t want to worry about that," Vic says, probably thinking the same things that I am. "I just want to live for right now. Right this very moment."  
  
The smile returns to my lips. “Well, I’d be happy to forget about my responsibilities with you.”  
  
Vic smiles back at me, then leans forward and gently connects his lips with mine.  
  
This kiss is unlike any we’ve ever had before—slow, sensual, deliberate. It’s not frantic or rough or overly passionate; we just take our time, kissing like we’ve got all night and not a care in the world.  
  
When we finally pull away, I notice that Vic’s eyelids close halfway for a few seconds, almost as if he’s in some sort of dream state. It’s not in a weird way, though; it just looks damn sexy.  
  
"Oh my God," he whispers as he stares at me, that look of wonder back on his face.  
  
I can’t help it—I ask, “What?”  
  
Vic reaches forward and softly caresses my cheek. “There are stars in your eyes.”  
  
Out of anyone else’s mouth, it would sound cheesy as hell, but Vic makes it sound like the most beautiful thing in the world. I want to ask him what he means, but then he kisses me again, so I just take it as a compliment.  
  
—  
  
 _Rock n’ roll, bitch. Go eat something. I hope you liked fountain-diving in Chicago._  
  
"I’m gonna take a wild guess and say we might be going to the Hard Rock Cafe," I say in response to the clue. We’re at the bottom of the incline now, standing right outside the car.  
  
"What makes you think that?" Vic asks.  
  
"Well, rock n’ roll. Eating. Plus, I saw it while we were up there," I explain, feeling like the smart one for once.  
  
"Does it have a fountain?"  
  
I shrug. “I don’t know, but we might as well give it a shot, unless you have a better idea.”  
  
"I don’t," he replies. "Let’s go."  
  
We end up walking to the restaurant instead of taking the car, just enjoying the city as Vic puts his arm around me and flirts with me. My face is probably bright red, just like it always seems to be around him.  
  
When we arrive at the Hard Rock Cafe, we get a table outside, and that’s when I see it: a fountain—smaller than the one in Chicago, but still fairly large—that changes color and makes different patterns with the water it sprays, almost as if it’s dancing to the music that’s playing.  
  
I point at it. “Bingo, Vic. I think we’ve found our fountain.”  
  
Vic makes a face. “Alright then. But how are we gonna grab our clue unnoticed with all these people?”  
  
"Uh…we won’t," I say bluntly. "I highly doubt we won’t at least get some weird looks."  
  
He shrugs. “I’m cool with weird looks, as long as we don’t get security called on us. We’ll go over there after dinner and see what we can do.”  
  
The food itself is pretty good, and afterwards, we try to get a bit closer to the fountain without being too obvious. This proves to be somewhat awkward.  
  
Vic stands up on his tiptoes and tries to look into the water. “I see it!” he says quietly. “Uh…I’ll see if I can just reach in and grab it. Stand behind me and act natural.”  
  
"Oh, yes. I’ll just act natural as I stand right behind you and watch you take something out of the dancing fountain."  
  
He sticks his tongue out at me. “Shut up. Let’s just get this over with.”  
  
I shrug and take a step forward, but then he adds, “Wait. I’ve got a better idea.” He points at a spot a couple feet away. “Step back there and take my picture in front of the fountain. Or at least pretend to.”  
  
I raise an eyebrow and step back, pulling out my phone. “Why?”  
  
"The capsule thing is near the edge. I think I might be able to pull something off." With that, he walks up to the fountain and attempts to pose right in front of it, his back against the edge, but then he slips, clumsily falling backward. His hand flies into the fountain, and it’s only when he pulls it back out that I realize that the fall was planned and that he just grabbed the clue out of the water. He laughs at himself, and I laugh, too.  
  
"Are you okay there, doofus?" I call, still holding up the phone as if I’m waiting to take a picture.  
  
He makes a face. “You know what? Get up here with me, you dork.”  
  
“ _You’re_  the dork,” I tease, but I do as he says anyways, noticing the amused glances of people who have been watching us.  
  
"Selfie in front of the dancing fountain," Vic sings. I take the picture as he kisses my cheek, and then he whispers, "Oh my God. I just really love kissing you."  
  
"That’s okay," I whisper back, my reflection in the phone’s camera showing that—of course—I’m blushing yet again. "I really love it when you kiss me."  
  
Vic takes my hand and leads me away, and once we’re back on the streets of Pittsburgh, strolling down the sidewalk, he says, “So, I got the clue.”  
  
I laugh a little. “You know, staging that fall was probably more complicated than our first plan.”  
  
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, whatever. At least we got it.” He pulls the small, glowing capsule out of his sweatshirt pocket—he must’ve slipped it in there right after he pulled it out of the water. “Do you want to look at it yet?”  
  
I take the capsule from him and pull the paper out. “Sure,” I say, unfolding it.  
  
 _Go admire some fish. Buy a pair of sunglasses from the gift shop. Wait for it.  
Song: Raining in Baltimore - Counting Crows_  
  
"Baltimore," Vic says, nodding. He looks up. "Bye, Pittsburgh. It was fun while it lasted." Then he seems to grow more serious. "We’re on the second-to-last city."  
  
"We’ve still got time," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "I wonder what the last city’ll be."  
  
"Probably New York," he says. "Have you ever been there?"  
  
I shake my head. “Nope. You?”  
  
"Nope. I’ve always wanted to, though." There it is again, that look of fascination. "And if it is New York City, then that’s even better than just going there, because I’ll get to go there with you." He smiles at me, looking like an angel with the way the city lights surround him. I’ll never get tired of looking at him like that. He looks so fucking happy.  
  
He looks like he could never want to die.  
  
We walk through the city in a comfortable silence, until, at one point, Vic starts singing to himself: “ _I need another story, something to get off my chest…_ ”  
  
At that moment, a girl walking past us in the opposite direction sings back, “ _My life gets kinda boring, need something that I can confess…_ ”  
  
Vic’s face seems to light up. Behind us, a guy adds, “‘ _Til all my sleeves are stained red, from all the truth that I’ve said…_ ”  
  
The four of us stop in our tracks, Vic and the girl adding their voices as I just stand there trying to figure out what song they’re singing. Then, when they jump into the chorus, a couple of people on the other side of the street join in, too.  
  
Vic puts his arm around me and turns to me when he sings, “ _I’m gonna give all my secrets away_ ,” and that’s when I realize what song it is: “Secrets” by OneRepublic. The lyrics are starting to remind me of my relationship with Vic, of all the secrets I’ve shared with him.  
  
By the second time the chorus comes around, we’ve got a small group of people gathered, singing and clapping along as Vic leads them, looking pleasantly surprised. His voice is right next to my ear during the bridge as he tells me not to let him disappear, as he promises to tell me everything, and everything about him is such a stark contrast to last night that it takes my breath away.  
  
I start singing near the end, having figured out most of the lyrics from the chorus, and once the song is over, we all start laughing and cheering and applauding.  
  
"What the hell just happened here?" Vic says, smiling widely.  
  
"I think you just inadvertently led a singalong," I tell him.  
  
Vic turns to me, staring into my eyes for a few seconds before pulling me in and kissing me, right in front of everyone. For a split second, I’m afraid of what they’ll say, but their applauding just gets louder.  
  
I feel like I’ll never be upset again.  
  
After a few seconds, Vic pulls away, linking his fingers with mine and turning toward the small crowd. “My name is Vic,” he says, sounding like a lead singer during a concert, “and this is my boyfriend, Kellin, and, as you all probably know, that was ‘Secrets’ by OneRepublic. Thank you and goodnight!”  
  
With that, we all turn and head our separate ways, leaving a sort of positive vibe in the air. “Well, that was fun,” Vic says, laughing. “Unexpected, but fun.”  
  
I don’t respond, because if I tried to make the words come, I’d probably end up choking on them. That’s how speechless I am, and it’s all because of him.  
  
The thought hits me like a train on a track:  _You are so incredible. You’re hurt, and you’re sad, and you fight through it. You’re strong, you’re honest, you’re real. You’re passionate and wild and spontaneous and bold and you care so fucking much. You’re afraid of love, but—if I’m not crazy—you dare to be in love with me anyways. You’re Vic Fuentes, and you’re beautiful, and I am in love with you._  
  
—  
  
"We’re on the second-to-last city, Matty," I say as we drive through the night. "Baltimore." I giggle accidentally—I haven’t been able to stop since the singalong in Pittsburgh.  
  
"Well, you sound happy," Matty remarks. I can hear the amused smile in his voice. "Mind telling me why?"  
  
I giggle again, causing Vic to smile—he seems to love my laugh (God only knows why). “Well, you see, Matty…I met a guy.”  
  
Matty snorts. “Is that your standard answer?”  
  
"Yeah, ‘cause it’s true."  
  
"Can I safely assume that this guy is the guy you’re supposedly in love with? Vic the Serial Killer, or whatever?"  
  
"You can definitely assume that."  
  
"Great. Are you going to, perhaps, tell me about this guy and your undying love for him?"  
  
"Absolutely not. He’s right next to me in the car." When I say that, Vic raises his eyebrows at me.  
  
"Fine, fine. Thanks for the update, Kell. Your every call reassures me that you’re not dead."  
  
I laugh. “You’re welcome, Matty. I’ll talk to you later.”  
  
After I hang up, Vic gives me a questioning look. “Matty wanted me to talk about you and how I feel about you,” I explain.  
  
He nods, putting a cigarette between his teeth and lighting it with one hand so that his other stays on the wheel. “Well, talk to me,” he says after a short drag. “How do you feel about me?”  
  
"I hate you," I say, giggling some more and trying not to blush.  
  
"No, you don’t," he replies.  
  
"Yes, I really do."  
  
"I have a make-out session from last night that would disprove that statement," he teases, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You certainly didn’t seem like you hated me."  
  
"Maybe I do," I argue, smiling. "Maybe I hate you and I just think you’re really hot."  
  
"You lie."  
  
"I would never lie to you."  
  
"Yes, you would. You’re lying right now."  
  
We keep going like this throughout the majority of the ride, except for when I’m asleep. Vic, as usual, insists on driving the whole way, which is only about four hours. I’m beginning to wonder whether or not he might be an insomniac, since he hardly ever seems to sleep.  
  
When we reach our hotel in Baltimore, it’s pretty early in the morning—the sky is still dark—so Vic and I prepare to just sleep together (we got a room with one king bed instead of two queens this time). That’s when my phone rings.  
  
"Lily?" I answer as we’re standing in the room. "It’s, like, three in the morning."  
  
"Over here it’s only midnight," Lily replies, reminding me that time zones exist. "But it doesn’t matter. Something bad happened."  
  
My heart starts beating faster, my stomach turning. “What happened?”  
  
She takes a deep breath. “So…Matty’s sister called me.” (She and Matty’s sister are really good friends.)  
  
"So this has something to do with Matty?" I ask. I don’t like where this is going.  
  
"Yeah," she says softly. "His sister told me that…they had a fire. A house fire. She got out okay, and so did their parents, but Matty…he’s a different story."  
  
 _No no no oh my fucking God no—_  
  
I play dumb to try to calm myself down. “Well, then, what’s his story?” I manage to choke out through the lump in my throat.  
  
"He inhaled a lot of smoke, Kell."  
  
 _No fucking no no no fuck this no fuck fuck fuck—_  
  
"He’s still alive," she continues, "but just barely. The doctors say he might not even make it to the sunrise."


	13. Raining in Baltimore

“Kell? Kellin? Are you still there?”  
  
Lily is saying my name, but I can’t respond. I’m too busy feeling my world collapse around me.  
  
 _Matty’s going to die._  
  
"I’ll…talk to you later," I say, hanging up before she can protest and dropping the phone on the floor.  
  
"Kellin, what’s wrong?" Vic asks, taking a step closer to me. "What happened?"  
  
I look away, tears blurring my vision. “Nothing,” I say, my voice coming out cracked.  
  
 _Matty inhaled too much smoke. He probably won’t live to see tomorrow._  
  
"Kellin, what’s wrong?" Vic repeats, firmer.  
  
I can’t answer him. I can’t even think straight.  
  
 _He’s going to die. My best fucking friend is going to die._  
  
"Matty," I breathe.  
  
I run out of the room.  
  
"Kellin!" Vic calls as I open the door and rush down the hall. I can hear his footsteps chasing after me, so I run faster, down to the lobby and then out the front door of the hotel, feeling like I’m going to throw up.  
  
Even Matty’s going to leave me now.  
  
It’s pouring down rain outside, but I don’t care. I let it soak through my clothes and into my bones. I let it disguise the tears that won’t stop.  
  
I turn a corner into an alley, and that’s where I collapse on the ground, my chest hurting and my head starting to spin as I sob my fucking heart out. There’s a voice in my head saying,  _Breathe, Kellin, breathe,_  but I can’t seem to make myself slow down. My hands and feet are starting to tingle and I feel like I’m going to pass out from hyperventilating so much, just like last night, while Vic was drunk. I can’t stand up, so I lean against the wall of a building, hugging my knees to my chest.  
  
 _Just when I think everything’s going to be okay._  
  
It’s happening all over again. Matty’s one of the only people I have left, one of the only people who are still here, and now that’s changing. He’s dying, just like Jordan did.  
  
"Kellin!" Vic yells, and then I feel his arms around me.  
  
I shove him away with my shoulder. “Go away,” I snap, curling even farther into myself. “Please.”  
  
He moves away, but I can hear him sitting down next to me. “Kellin,” he says, “talk to me. I want to help you.”  
  
I shake my head, hiding my face in my knees and refusing to look at him. _Please pass out,_  I think desperately through my lightheadedness.  _Please pass out. Please, dear God, just kill me already._  
  
"Don’t say that."  
  
 _Fuck._  I must’ve said it out loud without even realizing it.  
  
Slowly, I turn my head, starting to calm down slightly. Vic is watching me, completely soaked by the rain but seemingly not caring.  
  
"You’re wet," I say stupidly.  
  
He moves closer to me, putting a hand on my cheek. I don’t smack it away. “So are you,” he replies.  
  
"I’m sorry."  
  
"Don’t be." He puts an arm around me, pulling me into him and letting me rest against his chest. I want to push him away, want to forget about him before he leaves me just like everyone else, but there’s a bigger part of me that just wants to stay with him like this forever.  
  
"Matty’s dying," I admit, closing my eyes. It hurts so much to say that.  
  
"He is?"  
  
I nod. “Lily called me. Said there was a fire. Said he…inhaled a lot of smoke.” The crying that was slowing down starts up again. “Said he might not even make it through the night.”  
  
Vic strokes my hair comfortingly. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “She said he  _might_  not make it through the night.  _Might_. Nothing’s guaranteed. He’s not dead yet. There’s still hope, Kell.”  
  
I want to ask,  _Is there really? Is there really hope for someone whose life is just a series of losing people?_  
  
"Let’s go back," he says quietly, standing up and helping me to my feet. I just nod and go along with what he says, letting him lead me back to the hotel. My mind is still spinning with thoughts of Matty, but I can’t focus on them because all of a sudden, I’m so fucking  _tired_.  
  
When we get to the room, I crawl right into the bed, and Vic crawls in with me, both of us wet and still not caring. “It’s okay,” he whispers as I fall asleep. “I’m here, and Matty is, too, and we’re not leaving you. I promise.”  
  
—  
  
For the first few seconds that I’m awake, I forget. I’m stuck in that I-just-woke-up-and-can’t-think-about-anything-at-the-moment haze. Then, as I rub my eyes and start to become more familiar with my surroundings, everything crashes over my head like a wave.  
  
Vic. The rain.  _Matty._  
  
I bite my lip and try to think about what Vic said last night—that nothing is guaranteed, that Matty isn’t dead yet, that there’s still hope. His words are what stop me from breaking down all over again.  _He’ll be okay,_  I think desperately.  _He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He has to be._  
  
"You’re awake," Vic says, startling me slightly. I glance up at him and find that his eyes are wide open, and he’s staring at me.  
  
I nod slowly, trying to push away the thoughts of Matty. “Did you sleep at all?”  
  
"A little bit."  
  
I bring my hand up to his cheek. “You should sleep.”  
  
He just keeps staring at me, looking almost sad. “It’s not that easy.”  
  
I want to ask him why it’s so hard for him, why he just can’t seem to sleep. I want to know if there’s something in particular that keeps him awake at night. I want to make it go away. I can hear his voice in my head as I’m thinking about this, can hear him singing, “ _I’m gonna give all my secrets away_ ,” and it suddenly occurs to me that, as real and honest as he is, he hasn’t given them all away just yet. They’re still there in the cracking of his voice and the tears that sometimes form in his eyes. They’re there in the fake smile he gave me yesterday. They’re there in the fact that he can tell me that everything will be okay, but he can’t seem to say the same to himself.  
  
"Try to sleep a bit more," I say softly. "Please."  
  
"Okay," he whispers. He closes his eyes.  
  
—  
  
"Baltimore Aquarium, here we come!" I proclaim as we make our way down the streets of the city. The Baltimore Aquarium is where we’re going to get our next clue, or so Vic and I have concluded after much deliberation. We’re supposed to go to the gift shop, buy a pair of sunglasses, and then "wait for it". We don’t know what we’re waiting for, so this should be interesting.  
  
"Okay," Vic says as we step inside the large aquarium. "Are we gonna explore or get the clue shit over with first?"  
  
I don’t even have to answer him. We exchange glances before both cracking smiles. “Alright,” Vic says. “To the gift shop we go.”  
  
I’m feeling a bit better now after the events of last night, but there’s still the worry that never completely leaves my mind. Vic has a decent point, though, so I just hold onto that.  
  
The aquarium is somewhat busy, but not too crowded. We find the gift shop quickly and then begin searching for a rack of sunglasses, both of us admiring some of the souvenirs before Vic finally says, “Found ‘em.”  
  
He puts on a pair of sunglasses and poses in front of the rack, as if pretending to be a badass or something. I can’t help but laugh a little. “Would you like a leather jacket with that?” I tease.  
  
He sticks his tongue out at me. “Very funny,” he says, taking the sunglasses off. “Let’s go up and pay for these things.”  
  
"This is suspiciously easy and not-humiliating," I say as we make our way up to the young cashier.  
  
"Well, we still have to ‘wait for it’, so I think you have a right to be suspicious," Vic replies, setting the sunglasses down on the counter.  
  
The cashier rings up the sunglasses and gives them back to us without any incident, so Vic and I slowly walk away, finding an empty spot in the shop to stand around and wait.  
  
"Do you think he knew it was me?" I ask. "I mean, lots of people probably buy sunglasses."  
  
Vic shrugs. “Maybe Bree showed them a picture of you or something. I don’t know. All I know is, we’re waiting for something.”  
  
At that moment, someone blows an air horn. Everyone in the shop turns to see the cashier looking pretty self-satisfied as he cups his hands around his mouth, stares straight at me with a little smirk, and calls out, “KELLIN QUINN! CHECK YOUR BUTT!”  
  
"What the hell," I mutter, blushing profusely and taking a glance at my own ass. There’s a piece of paper stuck to it (how the hell did it get there without me noticing?). Embarrassed, I pull it off and look at it. Written in big, bold letters is the word "BOTTOM".  
  
People are giving me amused stares. I raise my eyebrows. Before I can say anything, the cashier looks at Vic and adds, “Handsome companion, check your head.”  
  
Vic narrows his eyes and reaches for his head, which is when I notice a piece of paper stuck in his hair. He pulls it out. This one says “TOP”.  
  
"That part wasn’t originally planned," the cashier adds. "Bree told me to add it in after she saw you guys together at the restaurant. Said she thought you two were traveling together."  
  
Vic and I exchange glances (seriously, how the fuck did we not notice someone putting these papers on us?). Now more people are looking, and those who can see the papers seem to be giving us knowing looks.  
  
 _Oh._  Vic’s a top, I’m a bottom. God fucking dammit.  
  
"Yours is a pun, too, Kellin," the guy says. "It’s the word ‘bottom’…on your bottom. Because you’re a bottom."  
  
That earns some laughter from the spectators. They probably have no idea what the fuck is going on, why this is happening, or who Bree is; they’re just laughing at this incredibly weird, incredibly embarrassing scene.  
  
"In all seriousness, though," the cashier says, pulling out another slip of paper, "here’s what you’re looking for. Have a nice life."  
  
After a moment of letting that whole thing sink in, I head up to the counter and take the clue from him. “Plot twist,” I say, somehow managing to make a sarcastic remark. “ _I’m_  the dominant one.”  
  
The cashier just looks at me.  
  
My face heats up even more than it already has been. “Okay,” I say, “yeah, you’re right. I’m not.”  
  
He laughs. “Didn’t think so.”  
  
I rush back to Vic, and we dart out of the gift shop, both of us seemingly torn between feeling humiliated about what just happened and laughing about it. In the end, Vic just says, “Well, he’s not wrong. About, y’know, who’s…the top…and who’s…” He doesn’t even get to the end of his sentence before we’re both laughing and blushing; even he can’t hide that.  
  
"But that’s stupid," I protest through my giggles. "We both know  _I’m_  the top in this relationship.”  
  
Vic laughs so loudly that people give us weird looks as they’re walking past us. “Sure, maybe in some alternate universe, but like hell is it true in this one!”  
  
I stick my tongue out at him. “Whatever. Now, are we gonna explore this place or what?”  
  
He takes my hand, shooting me a genuine smile that makes my heart beat faster. “Absolutely. Let’s go admire some fish.”  
  
—  
  
After the aquarium, Vic takes me out to a nice restaurant in Baltimore, and we chat and joke about random shit, both of us smiling and blushing and giggling like your stereotypical schoolgirl. Even with everything that’s been happening, even with that new and constant fear in the back of my mind that Matty’s not going to be okay, I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, if only temporarily. It feels like I can just be happy, without anything getting in the way, and it’s been a while since I’ve truly felt that. In fact, I don’t think I’ve really felt that since before Jordan told me he was dying. Ever since that point, every moment was tainted by the knowledge that it wasn’t going to last much longer. But this is different. This…this is a life-changer.  
  
Now it’s late, and Vic and I are back in our hotel room, cuddling in bed with the lights off. Vic is spooning me, his soft breathing next to my ear and one arm around my waist. He starts to plant soft kisses on my neck, biting at it affectionately. I’m not sure he realizes what this does to me.  
  
I let out a quiet sigh, shivering slightly at his lips’ contact with my skin. “You like that?” he says quietly. I don’t know if he meant for it to sound seductive, but that’s how it comes out.  
  
"Mm-hmm," I reply, trying to fall back into my relaxed, sleepy state. It’s not working.  
  
He bites a bit harder. “Maybe you’d like a little more, then?” Okay, that was  _definitely_  supposed to sound seductive.  
  
"Yes," I reply, turning around so that I’m facing him. "I would."  
  
Vic smirks, kissing my jawline before nibbling at my ear. Then he goes for my neck again, biting and sucking at the skin, and I tilt my head up, trying not to show how much he’s turning me on. This proves to be difficult.  
  
"Well, looks like I’m not sleeping now," I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.  
  
Vic stops and looks back up. “We might as well have a little fun, then.” That’s when he kisses me.  
  
It’s rough and fast and hot, a hurricane’s kiss. I kiss him back, opening my mouth a bit and letting his tongue take over. He runs one hand underneath my shirt and across my back, using the other one to push me over so that he’s on top of me, never once disconnecting our lips. He grinds down on me, making me gasp a little.  
  
"Your shirt’s coming off now," he states, before smoothly pulling my shirt off and tossing it to the ground. He leans forward to kiss me again, but I smile and lean back, shaking my head.  
  
"Not until your shirt’s off, too," I say.  
  
"Oh, I can do that." He yanks his shirt off in one swift movement, showing off his muscles and tan skin, then grabs my face and kisses me.  
  
I can feel myself growing hard as he presses our fronts together, my lips probably swollen now from the way he’s making out with me. I gasp into his mouth as he touches my bare skin. He shifts his position a bit, then places his hand on my crotch, his lips muffling my soft moan.  
  
Vic breaks the kiss and moves downward, his lips tickling my skin as he brushes them across my body. His hands shift to my hips, and that’s when he looks up at me, a question in his gaze.  
  
And I’m ready. I’m ready to move forward. I’m ready to tie that knot. I’m ready to break down my walls.  
  
"God, yes," I say. "Please."  
  
With that, Vic undoes my tight jeans and pulls them off, followed by my boxers, and I sigh in relief at the feeling of release. It feels a bit weird to be completely naked in front of him, but I don’t think about that too much. I’m too horny to be thinking a lot.  
  
Vic takes my dick in his hand and strokes it slowly. I close my eyes and bite my lip, but I still end up making a small noise of pleasure. “Ugh,” I moan. “More.”  
  
He moves his hand faster, driving me crazy when he brushes a finger against my tip. Then he takes his hand away suddenly, driving me even more insane.  
  
"Please," I whine.  
  
Vic leans over and grabs some lube from the side table drawer. “I got it one night while you were sleeping,” he explains casually as he coats his fingers with it. “While I was driving, and I stopped for gas.” He flashes me a cocky smile. “I thought, y’know…just in case.”  
  
"Bast—" I try to call him a bastard, but I don’t get to finish, because now Vic is lifting my hips up slightly and sliding one finger inside me.  
  
I tense up slightly as he moves it in and out. I let out a small noise of pleasure when he adds another finger and then stretches them both inside of me. Automatically, I press down on them with my ass, moaning even louder when he starts to stroke my member again at the same time.  
  
"Please," I repeat, my voice coming out breathless. "God, Vic,  _please_.”  
  
Vic pulls his fingers out of me and lets go of my shaft, causing me to whimper. “Please what?” he asks, smirking.  
  
"P-please fuck me." My body is begging for it.  
  
"Of course." Vic quickly unbuttons his pants and tosses them to the floor, along with his boxers. I can’t help but stare as he opens the side table drawers again and grabs the box of condoms that we bought in Salt Lake City. He pulls one out and opens it with his teeth (goddamn, could he get any more hot?), slipping it on easily and then covering it all with lube.  
  
I let him push my legs apart and back. He lines himself up, breathing close to my ear as he pushes in, slow but sure, and it feels incredible.  
  
I arch my back, both of us breathing heavily as he pushes himself the rest of the way in and nearly collapses on top of me, his eyelids fluttering.  
  
"Fuck," I gasp, loosely wrapping my legs around him.  
  
"I-it’s been awhile," he says, and I nod. We lock eyes, seeming to make a silent agreement.  
  
Vic pulls almost the whole way out before thrusting back in, both of us moaning. “Faster,” I plead, burying my fingers in his hair and pulling him down to kiss him. He listens, speeding up and making sounds into my mouth as his tongue plays with mine.  
  
"You’re a bit quiet this time," he teases huskily, grabbing my hips. "I can fix that."  
  
He pounds into me, harder than I expected, and I yell out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Oh—my God,” I gasp. “That—”  
  
He cuts me off by repeating his movements, causing me to throw my head back and moan loudly. Then he seems to shift around a bit, thrusting from a different angle. “Oh,  _fuck_ ,” I cry out. “Do that aga—”  
  
So he does it again, making me scream as he hits a spot inside me that has me coming undone. I buck my hips up, desperate for more, and he groans. “Keep doing that, Kell.”  
  
I bounce them up and down, and he thrusts even faster. “Fuck  _yes_ ,” he hisses, gripping my hips more tightly. That doesn’t stop me from rotating them around, though, and it’s my best idea yet, causing him to hit that spot again and both of us to yell out.  
  
"Yes, j-just like that," Vic pants, and I can’t help but feel satisfied that I’m making him fall apart, too.  
  
That satisfaction doesn’t last long, though, because he seems to fuck me into the mattress with even more energy. I want to kiss him, but he keeps hitting that spot over and over again, and I can’t stop moaning and whimpering. “Fuck, oh my God, I—holy fucking fuck,” I blurt, my body starting to shake.  
  
"That’s what I like to hear," Vic says, but his breath hitches, betraying him. He’s close, too.  
  
He reaches down and starts to fondle my shaft, the double sensation almost sending me overboard. “Oh— _oh_ ,” I moan, dangerously close to my climax.  
  
"That’s it. Say my name," Vic demands, squeezing my shaft with a little more pressure. "Come for me, baby."  
  
As simple as it is, it’s him calling me “baby” that does it for me. “Oh, fuck,” I yell. “Oh my God, oh, fuck, oh, fuck,  _Vic_!” My whole body shudders as I cry out again and again, and as soon as I say his name, Vic comes, too, his voice loud and sexy as he moans and shakes on top of me.  
  
We slow down gradually as we ride out our mutual highs, both of us sweat-soaked and panting. Then Vic pulls out and falls down next to me, smiling breathlessly. “Wow,” he pants. “That was…wow.”  
  
I rest my hand on his toned chest and my head on his shoulder. He runs his fingers through my hair, the way he always does, and kisses me on the cheek. “Do you regret it?” he asks, a sudden worried look crossing his face. “I mean, I know you said you weren’t ready before—and, I mean, with everything that’s—”  
  
I shut him up with a quick kiss on the lips. “ _Before_ ,” I say. “I said I wasn’t ready  _before_. Believe me, I don’t regret it now.” And it’s the truth.  
  
—  
  
 _Be Patrick Stump. Wear a fedora and glasses and sing Fall Out Boy songs near Inner Harbor._  
  
This is the clue that has led me to my fate. Vic and I are sitting down on the sidewalk at the edge of the city, close to where Inner Harbor is located. I’m wearing some large, black glasses (that make me look pretty damn good, or so Vic claims), along with a fedora. (I haven’t cut or dyed my hair, though.) Vic is playing his guitar next to me, and I’m singing “Alone Together”.  
  
Surprisingly, people seem to like our little Fall Out Boy medley-thing. They’re even tossing us money, though we’re not asking for any, and no matter how much Vic tries to explain and give it back, some of them insist on us keeping it.  
  
Vic can’t keep his eyes off of me, just like the last time we did this. Even though we’re dating now, I still can’t figure out why he always seems so mesmerized when I sing. I’m not that great, really. My voice is probably a strong four out of ten, at best. But whatever his reasoning may be, I like it, so I don’t say anything about it. I just sing the songs, and I’ll admit—it’s actually kind of fun.  
  
This goes on for a while, and I’m starting to think that we’ll never get our clue when I spot a familiar-looking guy making his way toward us. For a moment, I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before, but then everything suddenly clicks.  
  
It’s Craig.  
  
I falter with the next few lines of the song, and Vic looks up at me, following my gaze. He stops playing completely the second he sees Craig, so I stop singing and grab his hand, linking his fingers with mine.  
  
Before either of us can say anything, Craig stops in front of us, looking a bit shocked when his eyes fall on Vic. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this, either, but he recovers a lot smoother than Vic does and pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Kellin Quinn?” he asks me. “Otherwise sometimes known as Patrick Stump?”  
  
If it were anyone else, I’d laugh, but because it’s Craig, I just scowl. “Yes,” I say dismissively, squeezing Vic’s hand and taking the paper with my free one.  
  
Craig glances at our fingers, laced together in a more-than-friendly way. “Huh,” he says, as if this doesn’t even faze him. “Let’s see how long this one lasts.”  
  
A mixture of hurt and anger seems to flash across Vic’s face as Craig turns around and walks away. Then Vic turns to me, looking like he’s just seen a ghost. “I…” he starts, apparently unsure of what to say.  
  
I just squeeze his hand again. “You’re not okay, are you?”  
  
Vic bites his lip and shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “I’m not.” Then his expression seems to harden. He turns toward where Craig can still be seen walking away, and with that, he flips him off.


	14. Looking Up

_Congrats, Kells. This is the last clue before you get your car back. Are you ready? Of course you are. Go to the Ottobar tonight and wait for All Time Low. Right before they play their last song, “propose” to the lead singer. I’ve provided you with two tickets, but I’m not providing you with the ring. Sorry._  
  
It’s the last clue before this is all over. I mean, I knew it was coming, but now that I see it written out for us, it feels more real. Our trip is coming to an end, and we can’t really stop it.  
  
Vic takes me out to various places, including a random arcade where we end up winning a plastic ring to use tonight. He smiles, but it’s not as bright as it usually is. I don’t have to ask to know that it’s because of what happened with Craig, and also maybe a little bit because he doesn’t want this trip to end, either. He doesn’t even have to say it; I can tell just by the way he moves, by the lack of light in his eyes.  
  
We’re back at the hotel now, just resting and enjoying each other’s company. We’re both lying on the bed, my head on his chest as he plays with my hair. I almost forgot how much I love this, being so close to someone. When Jordan died, I tried to suppress feelings like that, but now they’re back, stronger than ever.  
  
I still haven’t heard anything from Bree about Matty, and this is both a good thing and a bad thing. It’s good because that means he’s not dead yet, but it’s bad because that also means he’s still not guaranteed to live.  
  
Suddenly, I remember something, something I haven’t really thought about or dwelled on because of everything else that’s happened lately. “Vic,” I say, tilting my head up to look at him. “You were crying.”  
  
He narrows his eyes. “What?”  
  
"That night you got drunk," I explain. "In Pittsburgh. Right when I was falling asleep, I heard you crying."  
  
He looks away from me, biting his lip.  
  
I take a bit of a risk with what I say next. “Can I ask why?”  
  
He just looks at me for the longest time with an expression on his face that I can’t read. Then, finally, he says, “I couldn’t stand myself.”  
  
I take his hand and link my fingers together with his as he continues. “I hated that I was afraid, and I hated that I’d opened myself up so far, and I hated that I always seemed to fuck everything up, and…my brain just wouldn’t shut up, Kells. It hurt. So I had to make it shut up.”  
  
I bury my face into his shirt, trying not to tear up at his words. God, I’m an emotional wreck. (Then again, he seems to be feeling the same way.) “Please don’t shut it up permanently,” I blurt, the words spilling from my lips before I can think about them. “I really care about you, Vic. Fuck, I really care about you.”  
  
He kisses me on the forehead. “I won’t, Kells. I won’t.” He starts rubbing circles on my back. “I care about you, too. So fucking much.”  
  
I look up at him, kissing him softly. He kisses me back the same way, slow and gentle and careful, one hand resting behind my head as his fingers explore my hair. “God,” he whispers in the brief moment that our lips are separated.  
  
"What?" I ask automatically.  
  
He shakes his head in wonder. “Just…oh my God.”  
  
—  
  
The Ottobar is a pretty nice venue, nicer than I expected. There are even some pool tables and shit like that upstairs. A band starts playing a few minutes after we arrive, but not the one we’re looking for. We mostly just stand by one of the walls, out of the way, watching closely.  
  
"These bands are pretty good," Vic comments in between sets. "They’re gonna go places." I think I can see a glint of longing in his eyes as he says that. That’s what he wants, too—to be in a band, to make music. I figured that out a while ago. It’s his passion.  
  
"So will you," I reassure him, taking his hand. I mean it, too. His music is mesmerizing. The fact that I’m even with him right now proves that. His music is something people will fall in love with.  
  
Vic’s mouth quirks up in a little half-smile. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Maybe I will.”  
  
After a few more minutes of me leaning on Vic with his arms wrapped around me from behind, it’s time for All Time Low to take the stage.  
  
They look pretty young—they certainly can’t be any older than we are—but they’re not bad. Their music has a bit of a more pop punk feel to it than some of the other bands that have performed, and I like it. I can’t help but feel nervous, though, as I watch the lead singer. I’m going to have to push through the crowd and walk right up there, onto the stage. I might even get kicked out for that.  
  
_It’s the last clue, Kellin,_  I think to myself.  _And then this whole torture-fest will be over._  
  
It doesn’t comfort me that much when the singer announces that this next song is going to be their last.  
  
Vic nudges me, probably realizing that I’m completely frozen. I stumble forward, pulling the stupid plastic ring out of my pocket (in its own little case) and pushing my way through to the stage.  
  
The lead singer notices me and beckons for me to come up. “Hold on,” he says, raising his eyebrows knowingly. “Let him through.”  
  
My heart is beating fast, and I’m not quite sure why. I guess it’s just the thought of what I’m about to do in front of all these people. Damn it. Bree knows I prefer to hide in the background.  
  
Somehow, I end up standing on top of the stage, my face heating up as I turn toward the singer and get down on one knee. “Uh,” I say, my voice shaking a little as I pull the box out and open it up. “Will you marry me?”  
  
For a moment, we’re serious and silent. Then both of us—along with the rest of the band—burst into laughter.  
  
"Well,  _that_  was unexpected,” the singer says into the mic, though it’s clear that in reality, he knew it was coming. “I will not,” he says to me, pulling that familiar slip of paper out of his pocket and handing it to me. “However, I  _will_  give you this, and I’m pretty sure that’s what you really want anyways.”  
  
I smile at him and stand up, taking it from him. “Thanks.”  
  
He nods at me, turning back to the crowd of people, who are all probably confused as hell. “Good people, this guy’s name is Kellin Quinn,” he says, pointing to me. “He’s been on a long journey across the country, but now it’s almost over. When we start this last song, he’s gonna dive off this stage, and I want you guys to catch him and carry him over to that handsome devil over there.” Then he points at Vic, who is watching me intently with a faintly amused expression on his face.  
  
_Who said anything about stage-diving?_  
  
I don’t question it, though, because the people look ready. When the music starts, I take a step forward, still nervous, and after a moment of hesitation, I throw caution to the wind and jump.  
  
It’s a strange sensation, being carried by a crowd. It’s fun, though. Before I know it, I’m being helped back down to the ground, and Vic is taking me by the hand and pulling me over to a more isolated corner, smiling and kissing me on the nose.  
  
"Was that fun?" he asks.  
  
I nod breathlessly, smiling back at him and probably blushing even more than I have been. “Fuck, it was fun.”  
  
His smile wavers a bit as he glances down at the clue in my hand. “So, what, uh…what does it say?”  
  
"Let’s see." I open it up.  
  
_When you get to Times Square, you will find a girl with the keys to your car (me). You probably don’t need a song, but I’ll give you one anyway:  
Song: New York State of Mind - Billy Joel_  
  
For a few moments, we don’t say anything, both of us just taking in the fact that this is the last clue. Then Vic, in an attempt to lighten the mood, says, “See? I  _told_  you it’d be New York.”  
  
I just look at him as the realization starts to hit me. Once we get my car back, we’ll head back to San Diego, but I can’t stay there forever. I’ll have to go back to Oregon eventually. And what then?  
  
As if reading my thoughts, Vic leans in close and kisses me softly. “We’ll figure it all out when the time comes,” he says, resting his hand on my cheek. “It’s not the end of us, okay?”  
  
I nod, automatically feeling relieved at his words. At that moment, my phone rings.  
  
I pull it out, and when I see that it’s Matty’s phone, my heart nearly stops. Answering it, I gasp out, “Hello? Matty?”  
  
"Kellin!"  
  
I almost pass out. I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice.  
  
"Did Lily tell you about what happened?" he asks.  
  
"Yes," I breathe as relief washes over me. "God, Matty, I thought you were gonna die."  
  
"I did, too, to be honest. That’s what it felt like. But I’ll be okay now."  
  
At this point, Vic’s phone rings, too, and he answers it.  
  
"Matty," I say, smiling so widely that my face is starting to hurt. "I was so fucking scared."  
  
"I know, Kells. But I’m okay. Where are you?"  
  
I laugh to cover up how emotional I’m feeling. “You act like you didn’t just almost die.”  
  
"Well, I don’t like thinking about it, man. Seriously, though, what did I miss?"  
  
I laugh again. Matty never was one to dwell for too long on things like this. It seems a bit unsympathetic, but that’s just the way he is. We both know that he’s okay now, so there’s no reason to talk about this near-death experience for longer than necessary. I’m glad to leave it behind.  
  
"Well, we’re just about to leave Baltimore," I say. "This is the last city. New York."  
  
"Whoa. It’s almost over, then?"  
  
"Yeah," I say, feeling like everything has suddenly turned back to normal. "Yeah, and I should probably be going. But promise me I’ll talk to you later," I add, suddenly afraid that something bad will happen again. "Promise me."  
  
"I promise you, Kellin," Matty replies. I can hear the smile in his voice. "I’ll talk to you when this thing is all over. And, by the way…I’m sorry I scared you. With, y’know, nearly dying and all that."  
  
I laugh for a third time. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”  
  
He laughs, too. “Me, too. Later, Kells.”  
  
"Later."  
  
When I hang up, Vic is watching me, a giant smile on his face. “I’ve got news.”  
  
I smile back at him, happiness nearly overcoming me. “Me, too. Matty’s gonna be okay.”  
  
His eyes widen. “Oh my God, are you serious?”  
  
I nod, smiling even more; my face is starting to hurt, but I don’t care. “What’s your news?”  
  
His smile widens, too. “Mike and Tony are getting married.”  
  
I hug him.  
  
I don’t normally hug people, but this is definitely an exception. “That’s so awesome,” I say, letting one tear escape. “That’s…wow.”  
  
He kisses me, harder this time, seeming to put everything he’s feeling into it. When we come up for air, he says, “I can’t believe it. It’s just…things hardly ever work out, you know? And now my brother’s getting married, and your best friend’s going to be okay, and I’m in love with you, and I’m  _happy_.”  
  
I kiss him back, tangling my fingers in his hair. He’s right. It feels like nothing could go wrong. It feels like things are finally looking up for once. It feels…perfect.


	15. New York State of Mind

As soon as we leave our hotel and get in the car to begin our night drive, Vic reaches across and intertwines his fingers with mine, resting both our hands on the console in between us. After a few moments of silence, he says, “Hey, I’m gonna play a song for us.” With that, he lets go of my hand and starts searching on his phone for the song, simultaneously driving with his free hand.  
  
"Are you gonna tell me what it is?" I ask.  
  
"Nope," he says, and then a lone piano starts up. It takes me a few moments, but when I recognize it, I laugh, thinking of Bree’s clue.  
  
"You listen to  _Billy Joel_?” I say. It’s “New York State of Mind”.  
  
He sticks his tongue out at me. “You’re the one who recognized it.” Suddenly, he pulls over to the side of the busy road. “Hold on a sec. I don’t think I can do this with one hand.”  
  
"Do what?"  
  
Vic opens the console up and starts digging through it, eventually pulling out a cord and plugging it into the phone. This causes the music to flow out of the car’s speakers rather than the phone, making everything sound louder and fuller, like it’s surrounding us.  
  
"There we go," he says, sounding satisfied as he returns to the road. When the singing starts in, he gives me a cheesy smile. " _Some folks like to get away, take a holiday from the neighborhood_ ,” he sings along. “ _Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood…_ ”  
  
After a quick, teasing roll of my eyes, I decide to fuck it and join in. “ _But I’m taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River Line…_ ”  
  
Vic takes my hand again as we both sing, “ _I’m in a New York state of mind…_ ”  
  
My smile gets bigger as we keep going, but it’s not because of the song; it’s because of Vic. It’s because this has turned into so much more than a road trip with a stranger. It’s because this has changed my life. It’s because I am in love, and I am not afraid.  
  
There’s a strange feeling in this car as we drive, and soon, I’m able to put a name to it: It’s the feeling of ending. It’s the air of us both knowing that this is the last stop before we come back home. It’s not too uncomfortable, actually. It’s just there, a gentle reminder in the backs of our minds.  
  
I sleep a little bit, but the drive is only about four hours, so for the most part, I’m awake, talking (or singing) with Vic. He doesn’t feel like a stranger to my anymore; actually, the only time he ever really did was when I first saw him, but within a few minutes of us chatting together, I felt like he was something a little bit more. I felt at home with him, and that’s not something I feel often. I guess I sort of knew, that day. Somehow, I could tell that it was the beginning of something other than Bree’s little agenda.  
  
When we reach New York City, it takes my breath away, more than any other city. I glance at Vic and find that he’s amazed, too. I’m not sure what it is about it, but I like it.  
  
"So this is New York," Vic says softly.  
  
I nod, smiling at him. “So it seems,” I say. He laughs.  
  
—  
  
When I wake up in the morning in our hotel, Vic isn’t with me like he was when I fell asleep. For a moment, I’m worried, but then I see him through the screen door. He’s sitting on the balcony and smoking as the sun rises over the city, casting bright orange light everywhere.  
  
After a few minutes of letting myself wake up completely, I climb out of the bed and join him out there, sitting down on the other chair.  
  
He smiles at me. “Morning, beautiful.”  
  
I blush, looking away. “Don’t call me that when I’m not,” I say automatically, smiling back and knowing that it’s useless to argue.  
  
"But you are," he says.  
  
"You’re a liar."  
  
"No, I’m not—"  
  
I make a face at him. “You’re an untruth speaker, Vic.”  
  
He laughs. “I am not,” he replies, sticking his tongue out. “What should I call you, then? Honey, sweetie, darling?” His expression turns thoughtful as he takes a drag of his cigarette. “Huh. I’m not a huge fan of the first two, but I like that last one.  _Darling._  I might start using that. Is it okay if I use that?”  
  
I laugh a little. “You don’t have to ask my permission to use words.”  
  
"I do, actually." He shrugs. "I’m not gonna call you something that you don’t like."  
  
"You can just call me whatever," I say, realizing my mistake as soon as the words are out of my mouth.  
  
"Alright then. Morning, Whatever."  
  
I cover my face with my hands, laughing harder. “That’s not what I—”  
  
"I know," he says, taking another drag. "I’m still hung up on ‘darling’, though. I think I’m gonna start using that more often."  
  
"I like that," I say, my gaze drifting across the cityscape. "So…this is the end, huh?"  
  
"The end of the humiliation and perverted tasks, yes," he replies. "The end of you and me, no."  
  
I smile. “Good. We’re going to Times Square, then?”  
  
He nods. “Times Square.”  
  
We just walk there instead of driving. Even in the daylight, the wonder still hasn’t worn off yet. I feel like I need to look everywhere, need to see everything. Vic seems to feel the same way. Before I know it, though, he leads me through crowds and streets and tall buildings and giant screens, and then he says, “This is it.”  
  
 _Well, shit._  
  
Maybe it’s just the fact that I’m used to Oregon, and nothing interesting ever happens in Oregon, but Times Square seems pretty damn crazy to me. How the hell am I supposed to find Bree in this place?  
  
Vic must be thinking the same thing, because he says, “This might be harder than I thought.”  
  
"Should we split up, maybe?" I ask.  
  
He nods, scanning the area. “Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea. I’ll call you if I find her, and if you find her, call me.”  
  
With that, he heads one way, and I head the other, searching for Bree’s telltale blue hair. Unfortunately, there are multiple blue-haired people here, so just when I think I’ve found her, it turns out to be someone else. “Bree!” I call, but that only results in an unfamiliar blonde spinning around in response to me yelling what’s probably her name, too.  
  
I try to search the streets, seeing if I can recognize a car, but none of them look familiar. This goes on for (according to my phone’s clock) around half an hour, and I even cross the road and check the other side. Apparently, Vic isn’t having too much luck either, but just as I spot yet another blue-haired person who isn’t Bree, he calls me.  
  
"Vic?" I say. "You found her?"  
  
"I think s—"  
  
His sentence is interrupted by a feminine voice that loudly says, “Oh, hey, Pretty Tan Guy!”  
  
"Yep," he says. "I found her. We’re right by the Bank of America."  
  
"Okay, I’ll be right there."  
  
Sure enough, when I get to the Bank of America, I find Vic and Bree both standing underneath it, mostly just staring at each other. “Okay, I’m here,” I say.  
  
Bree looks up at me and nods approvingly. “Well done, Kells. I have to say, I’m kind of surprised it went this well.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out my car keys. “Looking for these?”  
  
I’ve never been so happy to see those car keys.  
  
"Yeah," I say slowly. "Where’s the car?"  
  
"Oh, it’s in a parking garage near Central Park."  
  
Vic and I exchange glances. “Um,” I say. “A little more detail would be nice.”  
  
Bree shrugs, then gives us the address to write down in Vic’s phone, explaining some directions that I hope he’s following because I sure as hell am not.  
  
Once it’s all said and done, Bree shakes both of our hands like we’ve just finished making some formal business agreement. “Well, there we go, Kellin,” she says to me. “My revenge is finally over. Now I can go back to living my life and you two can go back to living yours.” She salutes us, then turns around and just walks away. “Bye, losers.”  
  
As much as she pisses me off sometimes (well, more like  _most of the time_ ), I’m actually kind of sad to see her go. I’ll probably never see her again.  
  
"Wait!" I call.  
  
Bree turns around, sending me a look of confusion. “What?”  
  
"Uh," I say. "This is gonna sound really weird, but I just wanted to say…thank you. For this. It turned out to be better than I expected." I glance at Vic.  
  
She smiles at us, seeming faintly amused. “Oh, I see,” she says knowingly before turning back around. “You’re quite welcome, Kell. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”  
  
Vic and I just stand there for a few seconds, letting it all sink in. Then he turns to me, taking my hand. “Let’s go get your car.”  
  
It’s about a twenty-minute walk from Times Square to the parking garage, which is quite large, unfortunately. Once again, Vic and I split up, and after about ten minutes of searching, I call him to tell him that I’ve found it on the second floor.  
  
It’s not too fancy—just a regular old car—but it looks pretty damn beautiful to me, since I haven’t seen it in so long. When Vic comes up, I wave at him, leaning my back against it. “Hallelujah!” I yell.  
  
Vic smiles widely as he makes his way toward me. “Hallelujah!” he replies, picking up his pace and wrapping an arm around me once he’s close enough. He kisses me softly, and then, when he pulls away, a look of concern slips onto his face.  
  
I narrow my eyes. “What is it?”  
  
He bites his lip and nods toward the car. “Uh, it’s—it’s nothing,” he stutters. “You can drive. I mean…it’s your car.”  
  
I know what he means immediately. He’s talking about how much he hates being in a car when he’s not driving it.  
  
I rest one hand on his chest. “Hey, we could go to Central Park right now,” I point out. “I mean, we’re right here, so why not? We’ll figure this out later.”  
  
Vic nods slowly, and then his gaze shifts to something behind me. “There’s a paper in there,” he says. “In the driver’s seat.”  
  
I turn around and open the door, and sure enough, there it is: a folded piece of paper with my name on it, scrawled in Bree’s handwriting.  
  
I shrug, picking it up and unfolding it. “Well, let’s see what it says.”  
  
 _Hey, Kells.  
  
Look at that. You’ve got your car back. That means it’s all over now, so you can go back home. You should throw a party.  
  
I’m gonna tell you a little secret, Kellin: I’m actually not all that mad at you. In fact, I got over you only months after you broke up with me. I didn’t do this out of anger. I mean, yeah, sure, revenge is pretty sweet, but that’s not why I did all this. I did it for two reasons: One, I wanted a little fun. Two, it gave me an excuse to travel. I just wanted to go to a bunch of these cities one day, and this gave me the perfect opportunity. And judging by your relationship with Pretty Tan Guy, I dare say that you found something good in all of this.  
  
And now it’s the end. I’ll miss making up those clues. I hope you had fun on this little adventure.  
  
Well, it’s been interesting.  
  
—Bree_  
  
For a few moments, Vic and I just stare at each other. “Wow,” Vic says. “It’s actually over.” After a short pause, he raises an eyebrow, a playful smile sneaking its way onto his lips. “You know, Central Park sounds like a pretty good idea.”  
  
—  
  
We stay at Central Park for a while and then head back to the hotel for lunch. We hang out there for most of the afternoon, Vic playing his guitar and me singing along. When the sun goes down, he takes me out to a nice restaurant, and then we leave the car parked somewhere and end up walking around the extravagant, brightly-lit city.  
  
It’s nice, being with him. Actually, it’s more than nice—it’s perfect.  
  
Now, with the news that Matty’s okay, I feel like there’s nothing holding me back. I feel like the universe is finally on my side. I feel like…like I’m _happy_.  
  
It’s a bit late, and Vic and I have just returned to the car, laughing and smiling and talking with each other. Vic takes my hand as we’re sitting there, and that’s when I tease him: “Hey, did I tell you that you could drive my car?”  
  
Vic makes a face, resting one hand on the steering wheel. “No, but can I?”  
  
I roll my eyes, still smiling. “Fine,” I say, handing him the keys, when something suddenly occurs to me.  
  
"Hey, Vic?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
I take a deep breath. Should I be doing this? Am I overstepping my boundaries?  
  
"Why don’t you like other people driving you?"  
  
He bites his lip, setting the keys down on the console and turning to face me. He stares at me for a few moments, and just when I think he’s not going to answer me, he says, “Because the one time someone else drove me, he died.”  
  
I wasn’t expecting that. “Died?” I repeat.  
  
He nods, eyes shining with unshed tears. “His name was Beau. He was my best friend.”  
  
 _Oh, God._  It reminds me of Jordan. It reminds me of what could’ve happened, what almost happened, with Matty.  
  
"I always really loved driving," he continues, "so I almost always drove, just because I thought it was fun. But then I got really drunk one night at a party, and I knew I couldn’t drive home like that. So Beau drove me…and he crashed. And, well, he didn’t survive it." He shakes his head. "I just don’t trust other people driving. I can’t let that happen again."  
  
After a moment of silence, I whisper, “Vic.” I don’t know what else to say.  
  
Vic turns away, taking a deep breath and blinking quickly. “I’m sorry,” I add, wishing I could make all his pain go away. “You didn’t have to tell me.”  
  
He places his hand on top of mine on the center console. “No, it’s okay. I would’ve told you anyways.” He flashes me a crooked smile. “I promised to give you all my secrets, so…” He shrugs.  
  
"Well, I have some secrets, too," I find myself saying.  
  
Vic nods, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Are you going to tell me them?” he asks.  
  
After a few seconds of contemplation, my heart starting to beat faster, I blurt, “My dad left when I was nine. I haven’t seen him since.”  
  
Vic just stares at me. “Kellin.” Now it’s his turn to not know what else to say.  
  
But I’m not done. “My mom hasn’t talked to me since the day I moved out,” I continue, “because apparently I’m not worth a fucking five-minute phone call every now and then.”  
  
I can tell just by the look on his face that he hates that I’ve been treated this way. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “I’m used to it.”  
  
"You shouldn’t be," he says, squeezing my hand comfortingly. "You don’t deserve that."  
  
I meet his eyes, and then another secret comes spilling from my lips.  
  
"Do you want to know something else? I’m not afraid anymore, Vic. I was afraid because my parents both left my life without looking back, and because the one person I became attached to died on me, and because one of my best friends used to be in an abusive relationship, but I’m not afraid anymore."  
  
I don’t tell him that it was my sister who was in an abusive relationship—that’s her secret, not mine. What I add is this: “And because of that last thing, I can’t hear the name Ethan without thinking of how much a guy named Ethan hurt my friend. And sometimes…sometimes, when people get mad at me, I start to think that they’re gonna hit me because that’s how it happened to her—t-to my friend. And I—that whole thing just scares the hell out of me.”  
  
Vic leans forward and, with his free hand, wipes away the tears that have been silently streaming down my face without me even noticing them. I blink rapidly, trying to take deep breaths, but all of a sudden I’ve gotten so emotional that I have to give in.  
  
I bury my face in his shoulder, crying quietly but steadily, and he just rubs my back and holds me, lifting me up and letting me rest on his lap. “Let it all out, darling,” he whispers, and I smile at that. The word “darling” sounds so perfect on his lips, like it was always meant to be there, and just the sound of his voice calms me down a little.  
  
"I’ve gotta stop crying," I say through my tears. "God. It’s like I’m crying every day now."  
  
Before I know it, I’m slowing down, and then I’m just closing my eyes and resting against him. After a while, I look back up at him and say, “Vic. There’s one more thing.”  
  
He just nods, silently willing me to go on.  
  
I lean up close, my lips right next to his ear. Slowly and deliberately, my heart pounding at the thought of the words on my tongue, I whisper, “I am contemplating the possibility that I might love you.”  
  
For a moment, he just stares at me, and I can’t help but think,  _Fuck, this is it, we’re done, I’ve ruined it,_  but then he breaks into a big, surprised smile. “Well,” he says, “that makes two of us.”  
  
If the words themselves don’t take my breath away, the kiss he gives me definitely does. We kiss like it’s the first and last time, and then, underneath the lights of New York City, I decide that maybe love isn’t such a bad thing.


	16. Dreams Only Last For a Night

Including the pit stops and the time we use to sleep, it takes about three days for us to return to San Diego. We end up driving in our own separate cars, since he has his and now I have mine, but we sleep together at night in our hotel bed. As usual, Vic doesn’t sleep much, but he lets me catch up on my own sleep and doesn’t wake me.  
  
Now it’s around noon, and we have just arrived in San Diego, both of us driving through the city streets and Vic leading me back to his house. Before I know it, we’re both parking outside of it and grabbing our things. Vic pushes the front door open, announcing, “We’re home!”  
  
Mike looks up from the couch, where he’s playing a video game. It’s like he never left his spot since the last time I saw him. I think he’s even wearing the same sweatshirt.  
  
"Kellin’s living with us, too, now?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Vic rolls his eyes. “ _Us_? Shouldn’t you and your fiancé be at your own house?”  
  
"You have better video games," he states in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, as Tony walks into the room from the kitchen and flips Vic off.  
  
Vic makes a face. “What was that for?”  
  
"You’re out of coffee," Tony explains, sitting down next to Mike.  
  
"That’s not  _my_  fault,” Vic says. “Jaime!”  
  
Jaime pops his head out from upstairs. “Yeah?”  
  
"Tony says we’re out of coffee."  
  
"That’s not  _my_  fault. You’re the one who shops for groceries. But you left us for the guy with the weird ex-girlfriend, so there are no groceries.”  
  
I raise my hand slowly. “Um, hello? The guy with the weird ex-girlfriend is standing right here.”  
  
Jaime looks at me curiously, and then he seems to notice my fingers intertwined with Vic’s.  
  
"Vic," he says slowly, "can we discuss something? Privately?"  
  
"There’s nothing to  _discuss_ ,” Vic replies, moving slightly closer to me. “And if you have something to say, you can say it in front of Kellin, too.”  
  
Jaime rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t play this game.”  
  
Vic just stares at him.  
  
"Fine," Jaime says, sighing. "Play that game." Then he turns and walks away, back down the hall.  
  
I turn to Vic. “What’s his problem?”  
  
Vic shrugs sheepishly. “Me, probably. I don’t think he’s jealous. It’s something else.”  
  
Tony must’ve walked back out to the kitchen, because now he walks in from there again, holding a knife this time.  
  
I raise an eyebrow. “Why do you have that?”  
  
"Because." He swings it around the room a few times. "I could cut the tension in here with a knife."  
  
Mike laughs so hard he drops his controller.  
  
"Hey," I say, suddenly remembering something. "Do you guys have MarioKart?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," Mike says, picking the controller back up and continuing his game. "Why?"  
  
I turn to Vic. “Remember that bet we made at Wet’n’Wild?”  
  
Vic laughs a little. “Oh, yeah. How much did we say? Thirty bucks?”  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"This should be interesting."  
  
A few minutes later, Mike gives his controller to me, and Vic grabs another one. We both sit on the couch, with Mike, Tony, and even Jaime gathering around it to watch the showdown.  
  
"What track are we doing, then?"  
  
"Uh…the crown thing." I point at one of the icons, which shows a group of four different tracks. "The master levels."  
  
I don’t remember all that much about this game, but I do remember that the first track is some desert setting, the next is some highway where all the cars drive on the wrong side of the road, the third one is one of Bowser’s castles, and the last one is…  
  
"We are  _not_  doing Rainbow Road,” Vic says.  
  
I give him an innocent smile. “Why not, Victor? Are you afraid you’re gonna lose?”  
  
"Rainbow Road was created by Satan."  
  
"Your point?"  
  
"Rainbow Road," Mike chants. "Rainbow Road."  
  
Vic rolls his eyes. “Fine. The master levels it is.”  
  
Twenty minutes later, I’ve got thirty more bucks in my pocket.  
  
—  
  
When the sun is low in the sky, Vic takes me to the beach where we first met. I’ve decided to stay in San Diego for at least another week or so, mainly because I don’t want to let go of Vic just yet. He seemed really happy when I told him that I wasn’t leaving immediately, so I think he’s feeling the same way about me (God knows why).  
  
Now he and I are strolling along the shore, hand in hand, and talking. Surprisingly, there aren’t as many people here as I thought there’d be, so we pretty much just walk a straight line, occasionally kicking our feet in the waves.  
  
When we reach a particularly empty portion of the beach, Vic stops and turns to me. “I got you a little something.”  
  
My face heats up. He got me something? “Um…what is it?” I ask, glancing down at my feet.  
  
He puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head back up. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I wanted to do this. Now close your eyes, darling.”  
  
I do as he says, my face growing even warmer. I can faintly hear him pulling something out of his pocket, and then he says, “Okay, you can look now.”  
  
He’s holding up a small object with a circular thing hanging from it. It’s got some weblike string across it, and at the bottom are three feathers. I’ve seen it before, but I can’t remember what it’s called…  
  
"It’s a dream catcher," he explains, as if reading my thoughts. "It’s supposed to, like, ‘catch’ all the bad dreams so you don’t have any. I figured, because, you know…" He shrugs, blushing a little. "I just thought it seemed like a good idea." He glances at it, and everything about that split second looks like a perfect snapshot, with the sun in the right place and everything.  
  
"It’s…wow," I say, smiling in disbelief. "This is…"  
  
"You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it," he adds quickly.  
  
"No!" I say, cursing my natural awkwardness. With no other way to communicate my feelings, I give him a soft peck on the lips. "I love it."  
  
"Really?" He bites his lip. "I…thought you might think it was dumb."  
  
"I don’t," I say, taking it from him. "I really do love it." I glance at the dream catcher as it moves with the breeze. "When did you get this?"  
  
He makes a face. “You sleep a lot.”  
  
I laugh. “No, you just  _don’t_  sleep a lot. What else are you doing while I’m asleep? Having sex with a bunch of other guys?”  
  
"Ha, ha. Very funny."  
  
We both laugh then, but when we stop, both of us seem to turn serious. “So,” I say slowly. “What’s gonna happen when I go back?”  
  
He kisses me on my forehead. “I don’t want you to go back.”  
  
"I know," I say. "But that’s where I live. I have to go back."  
  
He gives me a sad smile. “Can’t you just stay here forever?”  
  
I return his expression. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Vic.”  
  
He sighs. “I know.”  
  
"Long-distance relationship, then?" I ask.  
  
Now the smile is a tiny bit brighter. “Well, yeah. I’m not breaking up with you just because distance is a bitch.” He kisses me again, this time on my jawline. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll get through it.”  
  
—  
  
"Party time!" Jaime yells.  
  
We’re all piling into Vic’s car, him in the driver’s seat, me riding shotgun, and Mike, Tony, and Jaime in the back. Apparently, one of their friends is having a party at his house tonight, and they’re bringing me along with them.  
  
"Okay, first things first," Mike says as Vic pulls out of the driveway. "Who’s the designated driver for later?"  
  
"I am," Vic says automatically. Mike gives him a look. We all know he’s not staying sober tonight.  
  
"I’ll do it," Tony offers.  
  
"Thank you, baby," Mike says, kissing him on the cheek. "Taking one for the team."  
  
"Ew," Jaime says, making a disgusted face and leaning away from them. "Do that somewhere else. Being the fifth wheel sucks."  
  
"Oh, yeah, speaking of that," Mike says, looking up at me. "So, Kellin, you and Vic are, like, officially dating now?"  
  
"That’s right," I say as Vic takes my hand.  
  
"When did that all go down?" Tony asks, raising his eyebrows and looking faintly amused.  
  
"We made out under a gazebo, and it all went from there," Vic replies, smirking a little and making it sound like he’s kidding.  
  
"Sounds like fun," Mike comments.  
  
"It was," Vic and I say in unison. We both laugh.  
  
Nobody talks about the incidents with Vic getting drunk. Nobody talks about what Jaime said earlier. Nobody talks about how I have to leave eventually. That all seems to get pushed to the side, as if Vic’s friends (and brother) have given me their blessing. I feel like I’ve been accepted into their group. Tonight, we’re just going to have a little fun.  
  
Some houses are made for parties. Others are not. This guy’s house is definitely made for parties—large, with a lot of space. There’s a bar in the kitchen, where all the food and drinks are, and the furniture in the living room has been cleared away to make a pretty decent dance floor. This place also has a deck out back, along with a swimming pool. I don’t think there are many people upstairs, but that’ll probably change as the night goes on and people get wasted.  
  
"Tonight, we celebrate," Vic tells me, winking. He nods at the swimming pool. "And probably skinny-dip, too."  
  
"Ooh, fun," I reply.  
  
A few hours later, I find myself somewhat intoxicated and feeling really good, though that’s probably mainly the alcohol’s doing. Then again, it also might be the fact that Vic and I have been messing around, dancing, and kissing most of the time.  
  
People have started skinny-dipping in the pool, just like he said they would, and we both decide to join in. Normally, I’d be insecure, but the fact that I’m not sober, along with Vic’s reassurance, has me stripping my clothes off and jumping in with him.  
  
"You’re so  _prettyyyy_ ,” he says, smiling and splashing me. He’s even more intoxicated than I am.  
  
"No, I’m not," I reply, splashing him back.  
  
"Yes, you are." He moves close to me, poking my nose. "Boop."  
  
"You’re lying," I tell him. "You’re a liar. Stop lying to me."  
  
Without responding, he leans forward and gives me a hot, messy kiss, pushing me against the wall of the pool and pressing his front to mine. I gasp into his mouth.  
  
"Haha," he laughs, pulling away a little. "I turn you on."  
  
"No, you don’t," I reply, splashing him again.  
  
He giggles, resting his hands on my hips. “Yes, I do,” he sings. “Because I’m  _sexy_.”  
  
"That’s a lie."  
  
He makes a face. “What if I gave you an underwater blowjob?”  
  
I laugh loudly. “That’s the worst idea ever. You’ll drown.”  
  
He sticks his tongue out at me. “Fuck you, Kelly Bear.”  
  
I laugh again. “ _Kelly Bear_?”  
  
"Yes." He kisses me again. "Kelly Bear. You’re my Kelly Bear."  
  
"Okay, then I’m your Kelly Bear."  
  
This goes on for a while, until we eventually get out and put our clothes back on. We drink a little bit more, and then, somewhere along the line, he seems to disappear on me, so I end up looking around the house for him.  
  
"Tonyyyyy," I say, drawing out his name.  
  
Tony turns around. “Yeah?”  
  
"Do you know where Vic is?" I ask, poking him.  
  
"No," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Did you check upstairs?"  
  
"But he’s not fucking anybody," I say in a whiny voice.  
  
Tony laughs. “What about out on the deck?”  
  
I nod, giving him a thumbs-up sign. “Good idea. I’ll do that.”  
  
The deck, however, also does not seem to contain my Vic. I push through the mess of people, calling out to him, but I don’t get any response. Fuck, where could he have gone?  
  
I run back to Tony, who tells me to check the basement. I nearly fall down the stairs, but nobody seems to notice, so I just search the way I’ve been doing. This basement is nice, with a couch, a TV, and a pool table, among other things. A bunch of people are hanging out down here, but I don’t see Vic anywhere.  
  
Just as I’m about to turn around and head back upstairs, I hear what sounds like his voice. At first I think I’m just imagining things, but then I hear it again, a bit louder. He’s not really saying anything specific; he’s just…making noises, like he’s either in pain or turned on.  
  
I turn in the direction of the sound, a dark corner partially shielded by a group of people standing not too far away from it. Behind those people, though, I see Vic up against a wall, looking so drunk that he can’t even stand up without some support.  
  
That’s the first thing I notice. The second thing I notice is that someone is kissing him.  
  
 _Craig_  is kissing him.  
  
Everything feels like it’s falling apart. This can’t be happening. It can’t be.  
  
"Vic," I choke out.  
  
Vic pulls away abruptly at the sound of my voice, blinking a few times before his eyes widen. “Oh my God, Kellin!” His words are slurred.  
  
I want to confront him, but my mouth can’t come up with any words, so I just duck my head and run upstairs, trying to ignore the feeling in my chest.  
  
"Kellin!" Vic repeats, but I don’t stop. I just push through the living room, making my way to the front door, when someone grabs my shoulder. Tony.  
  
"Kellin, what’s going on?" he asks, seeming to sense my emotions immediately.  
  
"I’m driving home," I tell him.  
  
"No, you’re not. You’re drunk. I’ll take you home and come back for the rest of them later."  
  
I nod, letting him lead me out as my mind replays the scene over and over, of Vic’s lips on Craig’s, of the soft moans coming from his mouth. By the time we get to the car, I’m biting my lip to keep from crying once again.  
  
"So," Tony says as he starts to pull out onto the road. "Mind telling me what happened?"  
  
After a moment of silence, I quietly say, “I found Vic kissing Craig.”  
  
He turns to me with a strange look on his face that I’m too drunk to try to decipher. “Oh, boy,” he says. “That’s…not good.”  
  
Neither of us seem to know what else to say, so we just sit in silence until we reach Vic’s house. Tony drops me off there, making sure that I’m going to be okay, and then he drives back to the party as I use the spare key under the mat to get inside.  
  
It’s almost one in the morning, and I really don’t feel like thinking about anything right now, so I just head up to Vic’s room and crash in his bed. It’s only been about a week since we first started sleeping together, but I miss his arms already, and I hate myself for that.  
  
—  
  
When I fall asleep, I dream that I’m back at that party, that I’m pushing through people in an effort to find Vic. I know what’s going to happen before I even see it.  
  
He and Craig are kissing again, and no matter how much I call out his name, he doesn’t so much as look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist.  
  
Then the scene switches, and all of a sudden, I’m alone with him on the side of a highway. “I don’t give a shit about you, darling,” he says, shaking his head and smiling at me. “I never did.”  
  
I want to say something, but my throat feels like it has closed up.  _Vic, why? Why did you pretend for so long?_  
  
"Goodbye," he says sweetly, and then he pushes me out onto the road.  
  
I wake up just as the car hits me. I’m sweating and breathing heavily, and the whole room is dark. It’s just barely two in the morning. I only slept for an hour.  
  
The first thing I think of is that fucking kiss, how it hurts like that car slamming into me, going seventy miles an hour and shattering all my bones. Fuck. It hurts a lot. It feels like this whole thing with Vic—all the kisses, all those sweet words, everything—was just a dream, and now I’ve been shoved back into reality. Dreams always end.  
  
I glance up at where I’ve hung the dream catcher on the wall above the bed, and my heart clenches. It’s supposed to catch bad dreams. Maybe it should’ve caught Vic.  
  
 _Well,_  I think bitterly,  _it didn’t work._


	17. All of You

“I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I just want to say I fucked up.”  
  
This is the phrase that I hear coming from Vic’s mouth when I wake up in the morning. At first I think he’s talking to me, but then Jaime replies, “What am I thinking, then? And, yes, you did fuck up.”  
  
I close my eyes and pretend to still be asleep. From the quick glance that I caught, I saw Vic sitting on the bed and Jaime leaning against the closed bedroom door with his arms folded over his chest.  
  
"You’re thinking that I’m stupid and weak and an asshole and that I just ruined my relationship," Vic says.  
  
"Eh, close enough." I can hear Jaime sitting down in a beanbag chair. "I don’t think you’re an asshole."  
  
"But you  _do_  think I’m stupid and weak and just ruined my relationship.”  
  
"Well, frankly, yes. Because you went back to him."  
  
Vic sighs. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. It was just…he was there, Kellin wasn’t, I was drunk, he kissed me, I let him.”  
  
"No, I understand that. I don’t think it was right, but I understand it. This is what I was trying to warn you about when this whole thing with Kellin started. You’re still not over Craig yet, are you?"  
  
After a short pause, Vic says, “Not really.”  
  
"But how do you feel about Kellin?"  
  
Another short pause. “I think I might love him.”  
  
Jaime doesn’t skip a beat, as if that phrase doesn’t affect him at all. “So are you going to try to fix things with him?”  
  
"Yes," he says. " _Try_.”  
  
Now I can hear Jaime standing up and heading for the door. “Just…don’t do it again,” he says. “Craig’s gone. Kellin isn’t.”  
  
A few seconds after he leaves, closing the door behind him, I dare to open my eyes against the bright morning light. “Vic,” I say softly.  
  
Vic turns to me, startled. “How much did you hear?”  
  
"Uh…a lot."  
  
His expression softens, but I can still see the pain that it conveys. “Kellin…”  
  
"Why’d you do it?"  
  
I don’t mean to let the words out. They just stumble past my lips without my permission, and I can’t take them back.  
  
"Baby, I’m sorry," he whispers, putting a hand on my arm. I can’t help but flinch at his touch, and he takes the hint and moves away.  
  
"Did you think it wouldn’t matter?" I ask, hating myself for the way my voice cracks. "Didn’t you care? Did you just forget about me?"  
  
"Baby, Kellin, no," he says. "I wasn’t thinking at all. He was just there, and he pulled me in, and he was talking to me, and I bought every word he said, and I had so many shots I couldn’t count them on just two hands, and I wanted to move away and go back to you but then there was this part of me that still missed him and wanted to stay, and then he was kissing me and I couldn’t  _think_  straight, damn it! But now I’m sober and I wish I could take it back. I swear to you, I wish I could take it back. I don’t want to lose you.”  
  
It hurts to hear the regret in his voice. Still, I have to ask: “What happened between you and Craig?”  
  
He bites his lip. Normally I wouldn’t ask a question like this, but I need to know. I need to understand what made him do what he did.  
  
"We dated for eight months," he says finally. "It started out perfect, but then shit happened, and I kept crawling back to him anyways. He had that effect on me. He’d…do things, and then he’d say he was sorry, but then he’d do them again. It was fucking me up, I think. I didn’t know how to feel. And then, recently, he broke it off, said he never wanted to see me again. And it hurt, Kell. I decided that it was probably for the best…but a stupid part of me still missed him. I don’t know if that’ll ever go away. Is that dumb? I think it’s dumb. But, I mean…I can’t help the way I feel, I guess." He looks away and shrugs, as if it doesn’t really matter, as if to say, "Oh, well."  
  
"So he acted like he wanted you back," I say slowly, trying to get myself into his mindset, "and nothing else mattered in that moment—at least, not to the part of you that missed him. All that mattered was that he was there, and you didn’t think; you just let him have his way with you."  
  
He nods, looking back at me with sincerity written all over his face. “Yes,” he says softly. “But I hated myself when I saw you. He tried to get me back, but at that point, I knew I couldn’t. I was too focused on  _you_.”  
  
I stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating. I want to forget what happened, want to erase that look on his face, but the doubt in the back of my mind stops me. Vic is always so honest, but still, it’s there, and I think it’s because he’s too good to be true. He actually cares about me, and he actually wants to stay with me, and that’s not something I’m used to.  
  
"Um…I need to do something," I say quickly, climbing out of the bed and heading downstairs before he can say anything.  
  
Jaime is sitting on the couch, his feet resting on top of the coffee table as he flips through TV channels. “Jaime,” I say, “can I talk to you about something real quick?”  
  
Jaime looks up at me, turning the TV off and sliding over on the couch to let me sit down. “I’m assuming it’s about Vic,” he says.  
  
I nod. “Jaime, does he mean it? When he said he wishes he could take it back?”  
  
He doesn’t have to ask what “it” is.  
  
"Yes," he says without hesitating. "Craig had him completely wrapped around his finger while they were dating, but yes. He’d never lie about that. I was mad when I found out that you were dating him now, because I was afraid that something like this would happen. But I think he really does care about you, Kellin, no matter what happens. I think he’d never want to hurt you. So I think you should give him another chance."  
  
I nod slowly, letting his words sink in. Deep down, I think I knew it already, but this just confirms it. What happened last night was a mistake, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try again.  
  
"Thank you," I say, standing up and heading back upstairs. "Really."  
  
He flashes me a genuine smile. “No problem.”  
  
When I return to Vic’s room, he’s still lying on one side of the bed, staring off into space. “Vic,” I say, snapping him out of his daze.  
  
He watches me as I climb back into the bed. “Yes?” He looks so afraid of what I’m about to do…as if he’s afraid of losing me.  
  
I lean in close to him. “I want to forget about that,” I admit. “What happened last night. I don’t want to let go of you.”  
  
His eyes widen, as if he’s surprised. “You don’t?”  
  
I shake my head, smiling. “Absolutely not.”  
  
He smiles back, so wide and genuine, and I can see the relief in everything about him. He moves closer to me, raising an eyebrow as if to ask permission. I nod, and at that, he kisses me softly. “Thank you,” he whispers against my lips. “I’ll make it up to you, darling, I swear.”  
  
—  
  
"It’s loud," I comment. "I think I like it."  
  
Vic and I are standing in the parking lot of a place with different outside go-kart tracks. It’s around nine o’clock, so it’s dark outside, with bright lights shining down on the tracks.  
  
"Let’s go up there," Vic says, taking my hand and leading me up to where people are hanging out on the sidewalk in front of the tracks. At one point on the sidewalk, there’s what looks like a ticket booth, where I guess you pay for whatever track you want to go on and get a ticket for it. There are also some signs with a bunch of rules and warnings on them.  
  
"What track should we go on?" Vic asks.  
  
I glance at each one of the tracks. On what seems like the fastest one, I notice two people crashing into each other and skidding across the road. “Uh,” I say, motioning to one on our far right. “That one seems like the tamest, so maybe we should start with that?”  
  
"Sure," he replies, flashing me that stupid smile and walking up to the ticket booth. Only a few seconds later, he’s returning to me with two tickets in his hands. As we walk side by side down to the track, he says, "Okay, now let’s go ride this bitch."  
  
"That sounds wrong."  
  
He elbows me playfully. “Shut up.”  
  
It doesn’t take long for the current race to finish and for Vic and I to end up in go-karts, him in a black one in the very front and me in a red one right behind him. I’m kind of nervous because of all the other people here, but then Vic glances at me over his shoulder and gives me a reassuring smile, and I can feel myself relaxing. Goddamn, this is what he does to me.  
  
When we’re signaled to start, Vic is one of the first people out on the track, since he’s in the front. I can’t help but push hard on the gas pedal when it’s my turn, feeling unusually competitive. Vic doesn’t let me win, though, always cutting it close to the turns and moving diagonally right in front of me.  
  
"Screw you, Vic!" I yell, because there are children around and we don’t need a repeat of Wet’n’Wild. Vic just laughs maniacally, sticking his tongue out at me.  
  
This is a lot more fun than I expected. I crash into people a few times, but that isn’t even that bad, especially since one of the times it’s just Vic, who slows down slightly from our collision and allows me to finally pass him. I laugh loudly and obnoxiously, something I don’t do very often, to which Vic responds by sticking his tongue out again and giving me a raspberry.  
  
When the race is over, I’m almost sad, before remembering that we can do it all over again and that there are even faster tracks here. Once Vic and I are back on the sidewalk, I turn to him, grinning. “That was so much fun,” I say, giggling like a little child.  
  
"It was," Vic agrees, kissing me on the nose and not caring who sees. "So, was this a great date idea or what?"  
  
I nod, probably blushing a little. “The best.”  
  
—  
  
It’s a bit late when we get home, but for night-karting (as Vic now calls it), it’s worth it. Jaime doesn’t seem to care, though, simply looking up from the book he’s reading and raising his eyebrows at us when we come in through the door. “Fun time?” he asks, seeming faintly amused.  
  
"Definitely," Vic replies, kissing me on the cheek and leading me upstairs. As soon as we reach his room and close the door behind us, he pushes my back up against a wall, his lips less than an inch from mine. He leans forward to kiss them before turning away at the last minute and instead pecking the corner of my mouth. He carefully touches the side of my face, moving down to kiss my jawline before landing on my neck. His touch is so light, and I shiver against it.  
  
"Stop being a tease," I whisper as he flicks his tongue against my skin.  
  
"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he replies knowingly, kissing my collarbone and playing with the neck of my shirt.  
  
"You know exactly what I’m talking about," I tell him, tilting his face back up. After a moment’s hesitation, a moment of staring lustfully at those perfect pink lips, I grab him by the shirt and pull him down, kissing him roughly. Suddenly, I want to erase Craig from his lips. I want to reclaim him as mine. I want all of him.  
  
He kisses back immediately, all gentleness forgotten as he presses his body to mine and pins both my hands against the wall. He sucks on my bottom lip, pushing his front against mine and causing me to squeeze his hands as I let out a small moan.  
  
He moves downward before I get a chance to deepen the kiss, instead focusing on a spot on my neck. The hickey that he gave me there last time has mostly faded now, but he seems intent on creating another one, licking and sucking and biting.  
  
"You stupid f-fucking bastard," I breathe, feeling myself grow hard as he nips at the sensitive skin.  
  
He laughs, but seductively, not playfully. He’s not messing around. “This excites you, then?” he says, taking one hand away from mine and touching the sudden bulge at my crotch.  
  
"Maybe just…just a little," I reply.  
  
"Should we take this to the bed?" he asks, moving his hand agonizingly slowly.  
  
I bite my lip as I remember something. “Jaime’ll hear us.”  
  
He smirks and walks away from me, and a few seconds later, he’s got his stereo turned on and the volume up. Walking back over me, he raises an eyebrow. “Better?”  
  
I nod, wasting no time in kissing him again. He smiles against my lips and picks me up, practically throwing me onto the bed and pinning me there. Before I can do anything, he’s pulling my shirt right off of me and throwing it to the floor. Then he returns to nipping at my neck, but this time in a different spot.  
  
"I-I’m gonna have to—have to hide those," I stutter, tilting my head up.  
  
"That’s not my problem," he replies, smirking and tugging at my jeans.  
  
I smack his hand away, ignoring how badly I want him to rip my pants right off of me. “Not until your shirt’s off,” I tease. “I’m not gonna be the only one naked here.”  
  
Vic makes a face before pulling his own shirt off. I can’t help but admire his chest, his muscles, as he follows it up with his pants and boxers, all in an unorganized heap on the floor. Then he licks his lips, seemingly unconsciously, and undoes my jeans, sliding them off along with my boxers.  
  
He climbs on top of me and kisses me again, sliding our shafts together and making us both moan. Vic pulls away slightly, but only to say, “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”  
  
My breathing hitches as I run my fingers through his hair. “I want all of you, Vic,” I tell him. “Make me yours all over again. Only yours.”  
  
He nods, seeming to understand immediately. “Absolutely.”  
  
In a swift movement, he’s grabbing some lube from the bedside drawer and spreading it onto his fingers. “Wait,” I say, sitting up slightly and flipping myself over. “I want to try something a little different.”  
  
I can’t see him now, but I hear his laugh, which tells me he’s okay with it. A few moments later, he’s sliding a finger into me, and I moan, quickly getting used to the feeling as he moves it in and out. I moan a little louder when he enters a second finger and starts scissoring them both inside of me, automatically bucking my hips up. By the time there’s a third one inside of me, I’m practically fucking myself on his fingers. “I need you in me,” I moan. “Now.”  
  
Vic slides them back out, clicking his tongue. “Impatient.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. Then I hear the sound of a condom being unwrapped and more lube sliding onto him. My shaft is throbbing. I need him.  
  
Just as I’m thinking that, I feel him climbing on top of me and pushing himself in. It’s even better than his fingers; I feel so full as he slides all the way in, both of us groaning as he kisses my neck again.  
  
"Ugh," I moan. "Fuck. Me. Now."  
  
"Naughty, naughty," Vic replies, starting to pull himself out before thrusting back in. I moan as he tangles his fingers in my hair, moving slowly but steadily and letting me get used to him.  
  
"Go. Faster," I beg, and at that moment, he slams into me, causing me to cry out. "Oh, fuck, yes—"  
  
My words turn into a gasp as he does it again, repositioning himself on top of me and hitting me from a different angle. He moans into my ear, but I barely hear it over the sound of my own voice. He’s found that spot, and he knows it, too.  
  
"Please," I pant. "Please—"  
  
He hits it again, both of us crying out. He’s moving much faster now, going almost the whole way out before ramming back in again. I arch my back, because fuck, this feels so good.  
  
Vic runs his hands across my back before grabbing my hips and pulling me up slightly. He goes even deeper, sucking on my neck and moaning into my skin as my breathing hitches some more.  
  
"Fuck, you’re so  _tight_ , Kells,” he growls, thrusting hard and fast. “You feel so good.”  
  
I just moan in response, a panting, squirming mess at the sound of his dirty talking. “Oh my  _God_.” I’m not going to last much longer at this rate.  
  
"You’re so f-fucking hot," Vic moans, grabbing my hair again and pushing me farther into the mattress. "Oh my fucking— _ugh_.” His breathing is ragged, his thrusts even quicker. He’s close, too.  
  
I buck my hips up some more and rock my body against his, determined to get him to come, to get him to feel as good as I’m feeling right now (or even better). He rests his head against my shoulder, letting out a string of low, sexy moans as he shoots inside of me, reaching his climax.  
  
He slows down a bit as he comes back down, then reaches down and quickly pumps my member. I bury my face in the pillow as more moans spill out of my mouth, and after a few more flicks of his wrist, I’m coming, too, gasping out his name.  
  
Vic pulls out of me, still stroking me slowly as I finish. Then he lies down next to me, both of us breathing heavily and staring at each other in wonder.  
  
"You’re mine," he says finally, kissing me softly. "Only mine."  
  
I smile, feeling like he’s just given me a part of him—all of him. I feel like we can just put the past behind us now. I feel like everything’s going to be okay.  
  
"Can I tell you another secret?" he asks.  
  
"Sure," I say, moving closer and resting my head against his chest.  
  
"I think I feel closer to you than anyone else," he says. "Ever. Even closer than Jaime, or Mike, or Craig…I feel like this is big. Like…like it’s a life-changer."  
  
I look up at him, touching his cheek. “Well,” I say, repeating his words back to him, “that makes two of us.”


	18. My Only One

When I wake up in the morning, I almost expect Vic not to be next to me, since that happens so often. But sure enough, he’s here, his chest against my back, his arm around my waist, his face buried in my neck. With my eyes still closed, I smile to myself when I hear his soft snoring next to my ear. Finally, he’s actually  _sleeping_.  
  
I shift slightly, trying to throw off some of the covers. Vic makes a groggy noise, and then he shifts, too, before settling back down and unconsciously adjusting his hold on me. He sighs into my hair.  
  
I giggle quietly. “God, I love you,” I whisper automatically. Then I realize what I just said.  
  
My heart starts beating faster. Did I really just say that, without even thinking about it? Did it really just come out of my mouth like it was always meant to pass my lips, like I was always meant to say that to him with absolute certainty?  
  
Vic giggles. “I love you, too, darling,” he replies, still sounding half-asleep.  
  
I can’t believe this. I must be hearing things.  
  
"No, you don’t," I say, taking his hand and playing with his fingers. "You’re barely awake. You’re not thinking straight."  
  
"You’re right. I’m  _not_  thinking straight. I’m thinking gay.”  
  
I turn around and look up at him. I find that he’s smiling and that his eyes are now wide open. For a moment, we just stare at each other, and then we both laugh.  
  
"Okay, that was good," I say, turning serious again. "But really…did you mean it?"  
  
He nods, suddenly solemn. “Of course I did,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. After a moment of hesitation, he adds, “Did you?”  
  
I’m not really sure. Did I mean it? Did I mean to let those crazy, dangerous words slip out?  
  
I look into his eyes, and that’s when the answer becomes obvious: Of course I meant it.  
  
"Yes," I breathe, feeling scared out of my mind at the thought.  _I love him. I love him._  
  
"It’s okay," he says, kissing me again, this time on the lips. "I need to relearn what that feels like, too."  
  
—  
  
I end up falling back asleep in his arms, and when I wake up again, he’s no longer with me. I figure he’s just downstairs, so after a few minutes of letting myself wake up, I head down there. To my surprise, though, he doesn’t seem to be anywhere on the first floor.  
  
"Hey, Jaime, have you seen Vic?" I ask as I walk back into the living room.  
  
Jaime looks up from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch with his book still in his hands. “Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “I think I heard him walk out of here, like, twenty minutes ago. Somewhere around there.”  
  
"Didn’t say where he was headed?"  
  
He shakes his head. “I was still half-asleep, so he probably thought I wouldn’t really notice. He might be running a quick errand.” He smirks. “I mean, he  _is_  the one who buys the groceries, so maybe he’s finally gotten off his ass and gone to do that.”  
  
"Wouldn’t he have told somebody, though?"  
  
Jaime narrows his eyes, nodding. “Yeah, actually, he normally does. Especially since…” He trails off. “Since the thing that he did. He’d usually tell someone so we wouldn’t freak out.”  
  
I want to ask what he means by “the thing that he did”, but instead I decide to focus on the matter at hand. “Why would he leave without telling anyone where he was going?”  
  
"It’s probably nothing. Could’ve gone for a morning walk or something. He does that sometimes." He stands up. "Did he leave a note anywhere?"  
  
I shake my head. “Didn’t see one. And he didn’t text me or anything, either.”  
  
"Hold on, let me check my phone. Maybe he texted me." He grabs it off the coffee table and turns it on. "Aha. He did."  
  
"What’s it say?"  
  
“‘C wanted me to bring him something,’” he reads. “‘Be back soon.’”  
  
"What does ‘C’ stand for?" I ask, though I think I already know.  
  
Jaime scowls. “Craig.”  
  
I feel a pain in my chest at the sound of that name. “What did—why would he…?”  
  
"Craig always treated Vic like his slave when they were together," Jaime explains, sounding a bit angry. "Looks like old habits die hard. We must’ve had something here that he wanted—booze, I’m guessing, since that happened a lot—and so he asked Vic to bring it to him."  
  
"That fucking bastard," I say, clenching my fists. How dare he treat Vic that way? And how dare Vic let him? "Where does Craig live?"  
  
"He’s right in the neighborhood." With that, he gives me the directions to Craig’s house, and then I’m running out the door with him calling after me, "You go, Kells. Go smack some sense into that boyfriend of yours. Please."  
  
I decide to walk there instead of taking a car. I make my way quickly through the streets of the neighborhood, growing more and more upset with every second that passes. They could be doing anything right now. What if Vic forgets about me? What if he decides he doesn’t care about me anymore?  
  
I slow down when I’m a few houses away from Craig’s, mostly because I need to catch my breath from the sprinting and also to prepare myself. I don’t know what I’m preparing myself for, exactly, but I prepare myself nonetheless.  
  
Finally, I get up the courage to take those last steps toward the house, and when I get there…well, at least they’re not kissing this time.  
  
They’re hanging out on the front porch step, Craig with a bottle of booze in one hand—Jaime must’ve been right. They’re talking and laughing, Vic flashing Craig that beautiful signature smile, and Craig just eats it all up without seeming to appreciate any of it. There’s nothing outwardly romantic about it at all, but I still feel betrayed because of their history and what happened the other night.  
  
"Vic," I say, cringing inwardly at the way my voice cracks ever-so-slightly. "What are you…?"  
  
Vic looks up immediately, jumping to his feet. “Kellin!”  
  
But suddenly, I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I turn around and start to run away from him, hating the pain in my chest.  
  
"Kells," Vic repeats once he catches up with me and forces me to slow down. "Please."  
  
I bite my lip at the sound of my nickname. “Please what?” I snap, not meaning for it to come out sounding as harsh as it does.  
  
"Just let me explain."  
  
I storm past him, an image of Craig kissing him flashing through my mind. “Why, Vic?” I call back. “Why are you doing this? Is it really that fucking hard to stay away from him?”  
  
Deep down, I know that I might just be being an irrational, jealous boyfriend. But I’m scared. I’m scared of losing him. I’m scared of letting Craig reel him right back in again. I don’t want that to happen. I just want everything to be okay.  
  
"Kellin…" Vic calls after me. I keep going and force myself not to look back.  
  
 _What happens when I leave?_  I wonder as I run back the way I came. If I’m not here, Vic could forget about me. I mean, sure, we could text and video-chat, but without the real me here, who’s to say he won’t want someone he can touch or kiss? Who’s to say he’ll be fine with the distance and won’t search for someone else?  
  
Who’s to say he won’t find that “someone else” in Craig?  
  
So, with my stupid hurt feelings and my paranoid thoughts, I make my way back to the house. I don’t know if Vic’s following me; I can’t see him behind me, and I haven’t heard his voice, so I guess not.  
  
When I get back, Jaime must realize immediately that something is wrong, because he says, “What happened?”  
  
And that’s when I realize that nothing happened in particular. It was just me freaking out at the sight of Vic with Craig. It was just my emotions getting in the way of everything.  
  
It didn’t used to be this way, back when my life was boring and mundane. I didn’t have anything to get emotional over (except  _Supernatural_ ). Now that I think about it, maybe it was better that way.  
  
—  
  
The rest of the day is a series of events in which Vic tries to talk to me and I ignore him. I end up going out for a walk—twice—just as an excuse to get away from him. I know I’m going to have to face him eventually, but I don’t want to.  
  
Vic corners me when I’m out on the wooden bench swing on the front porch, watching the sun set. I stand up, but he takes me by the wrist and sits down on the swing. I sigh and sit back down next to him.  
  
"Okay, okay," I say. "You caught me."  
  
He just looks at me. “Kellin, I…”  
  
"Vic, you’ve gotta choose," I interrupt.  
  
He narrows his eyes. “What?”  
  
"You’ve gotta choose," I repeat. "Between me and Craig. I don’t want to play this game with you. I don’t want you to tell me that you…that you  _love_ me…and then go back to your old ex like nothing’s wrong. I know how much he lures you in. I don’t want to lose you.”  
  
Vic just keeps looking at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes. “Kellin, baby,” he starts, but he can’t seem to find a way to finish it.  
  
"Please," I say. "I told you, I want all of you. I don’t want some other part of you to belong to Craig. I’m not sharing."  
  
He nods, but before he can say anything, I add, “Don’t decide right now.”  
  
He narrows his eyes. “Why not?”  
  
"Because," I explain, hating myself for not taking him back immediately but knowing that it needs to be done this way. "I want you to think about it. Really think about it. I want you to know for sure that you want me to be yours, and only yours.”  
  
He nods again. “Then I’ll think about it.”  
  
As he stands up and heads back inside, I almost want to reach out and pull him back. I almost want to kiss him and forget about everything. But I have to wait. I have to be sure that this won’t happen again.  
  
I stay out there for a long time. I’m not sure how long; all I know is that by now the sun has completely gone down, the air has gotten a bit cooler, and the dark sky is now speckled with stars. It’s around this time that Vic comes outside again.  
  
"I thought about it," he says, and I try not to show the way my heart speeds up. Those words are what cause everything to hit me all at once: He might be breaking up with me. That’s the price I might have to pay if he decides he doesn’t want me as much as he wants Craig.  
  
"And…?" I ask, taking a deep breath, waiting for him to tell me that it’s not going to work out.  
  
He sits down next to me. “And I’ve decided that I want someone who’s loyal.”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”  
  
"Craig isn’t loyal." He leans forward, tilting my head up slightly. "But you are. And I want to be more like you."  
  
Hope blooms in my chest. “Are you saying…?”  
  
He smiles. “Darling, it’s only you and me. I’m gonna be loyal, too.”  
  
Then he closes the distance and gives me a kiss—soft, slow, sweet, mine.


	19. Everybody Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while writing this chapter just how fucked my continuity is in regards to the bands mentioned in this fic but oh well just roll with it that's why it's called an Alternate Universe lmao

“May I ask why we’re going to a park?”  
  
Vic just makes a face at me. “Because why the hell not? Are we not allowed to go to parks?”  
  
I just laugh. It’s the next morning, and Vic is apparently going to take me out to a park not too far from the city. Jaime’s working now—he’s been off for a few days.  
  
"So, why don’t you have a job?" I ask as we’re driving.  
  
He shrugs. “I’m in between jobs right now. And the band thing isn’t working out, so I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m going to be working in retail for the rest of my life.”  
  
"It’ll work out," I assure him, because I hate for him to think that he’s not good enough to live his dream.  
  
"Maybe," he says softly as he parks the car. "I don’t wanna think about the future right now, though." He smiles and takes my hand. "I just want to be with you."  
  
I smile back at him. “I’m okay with that.”  
  
The park is large and mostly surrounded by trees. There’s a lot of empty grass areas, along with a playground and some picnic tables and benches. There’s also a pavilion on one side, sort of far away from the rest of the park, where I can see a couple guys hanging out and smoking.  
  
As if on cue, Vic pulls out a cigarette once we sit down on one of the benches. “I still feel kind of weird doing this right next to you,” he says as he lights it and takes a drag.  
  
I just watch him, watch the smoke curl around him and lift up into the sky, fading slowly. I watch him flick the ash onto the ground, watch the way his chest rises and falls with each puff.  
  
"Do you think you’re ever gonna quit?"  
  
I don’t mean to say it out loud, but my mouth fucks up and lets the words slip from my lips. Vic turns to me, regarding me thoughtfully, looking like he’s deeply considering something. “I don’t know,” he says finally.  
  
I just look back at him. “What made you start?”  
  
He shrugs, taking another drag. “I think I just wanted to be cool, y’know, in the beginning. I was, like, thirteen or something like that, and some older guys invited me to try it…that’s not what kept it going, though. I wouldn’t have done it again if it weren’t for other shit.”  
  
I narrow my eyes, listening closely as he speaks. “What other shit?”  
  
He shrugs again. “I was just kind of depressed around that time. Or maybe that’s not the right word. Bummed. Low. Unhappy. Whatever. I don’t think it was clinical, is what I’m trying to say. But it was there.” He takes yet another drag. “I felt like I didn’t really belong anywhere, I guess. I mean, I had friends, but I felt like they could all go on without me and they wouldn’t even notice. Like I wasn’t really important to anyone, like I was a second choice…or maybe not even a second choice. More like a five hundredth. And then I’d find somebody who made me feel like I was something, or like I could make somebody happy, and then they’d take it all away and I’d be right back where I started, or worse.” He waves his cigarette around. “This sort of helped me deal with all of it. It calmed me down, gave me something else to focus on. Maybe that’s dumb, but it’s how I got hooked, and now here I am.”  
  
I’m hanging onto his every word, because it feels like I’m listening to a mirror image of myself. That’s what I felt like in high school, and I’d be lying if I said that the feeling has completely gone away by now, because it hasn’t. I think back to that drunk night, to Vic telling me,  _I want to fucking die._  I think back to the look in his eyes when he said that he didn’t mean it. It hasn’t gone away for him, either.  
  
"You sound like me," I say slowly, because I never thought I’d meet someone who felt the same way. It’s always seemed like everyone else knows their place in the world, and I’m just there. I never thought I’d meet someone who’s just as lost as I am.  
  
His eyes widen a little, as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Really?”  
  
I nod, giving him a faint smile. “I felt the same way.”  
  
He smiles back at me. Then he takes one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it onto the ground and stepping on it. “I’m assuming you never smoked to escape your problems, though.”  
  
"Nah, and I probably never will. I was always afraid to try it. Not quite sure why."  
  
"Well, that’s good. Don’t do it." He wags a finger at me teasingly.  
  
I hold my hands up in surrender, laughing. “I won’t, I won’t.”  
  
He laughs, too, but then something changes as his eyes focus on something behind me. I glance to my right, where the pavilion is maybe twenty-five feet away from us. The two guys smoking over there are turned toward us, holding hands and looking at each other in what seems like a romantic manner. Normally, I’d be happy that they’re being so public, but I know one of those people, and Vic does, too.  
  
"Looks like he found someone else, then," he says as he watches them. It’s Craig.  
  
I turn to look at him, noticing the glint of  _something_  in his eyes. Craig has now turned toward us and seems to be watching us curiously. Unexpectedly, Vic pulls me in and kisses me, rough and fast and passionate. I kiss back, trying to keep up with the hurricane as he tangles his fingers in my hair. Then he stops, just as suddenly as he started, staring at me like he’s seriously thinking about something.  
  
"Let’s go," he says finally, taking my hand. Without a word, I let him lead me back to the car.  
  
—  
  
Vic takes me out places the entire day. He’s acting strange—has been ever since the incident with Craig this morning—but I don’t know what the problem is, exactly. He’s not really distant. In fact, he seems to be the complete opposite, trying his hardest to do all these things for me. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I know it has something to do with Craig. It has something to do with Craig’s new boyfriend (or whatever the hell that other guy is).  
  
He tries not to show it, though, and that really hurts. He always used to show what he was feeling, back when I first met him. Something’s wrong, but whenever I ask him about it, he just shrugs and says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.  
  
It’s late, and we’re back at the house now, lying together in bed with the lights off. My head rests against his chest, and every once in a while he’ll plant kisses on my neck, or collarbone, or cheek, or lips. Pretty much everywhere. It feels nice, but it also seems a bit…frantic. That’s how he’s been acting.  
  
"Vic," I say softly, "can you please tell me what’s wrong?"  
  
Vic lets out a deep breath, running his hands affectionately across my hips. “I told you, there’s nothing wrong.”  
  
It hurts to hear the pain in his voice. “Please,” I say. “Talk to me. You used to talk to me.”  
  
He looks at me for the longest time, his eyes shining. “I’ve just been having a bad day,” he says, resting a hand on the side of my face. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I hate feeling this way.”  
  
I nod slowly. “Why…why did you take me places the whole day?”  
  
He shrugs. “I was just trying to…I don’t know. Two things, I guess. For one, I wanted to show you off. And two…” He looks away. “I guess I was trying to make the bad feeling go away.”  
  
That makes sense. It hurts, hearing him talk that way, but it makes sense. That explains why he kissed me in front of Craig. It explains why he seems so desperate. He wanted to show me off. He wanted to make the bad feeling go away.  
  
"What bad feeling?" I find myself asking, though I think I already have an idea of what he’s going to say.  
  
He sighs, closing his eyes for a minute before reopening them. “Watching Craig with that new guy, and them seeing me with you…it felt like an ending. It felt like we’d both finally moved on, like nothing would ever happen between us again. And though that’s a good thing…I mean, some part of me’s still attached to him, like I told you about. And I don’t think it’ll be that way forever—at least, I hope not—but that’s how it is now, and so I have to deal with it. So I’ve been reminding that part of me that I have you, and that makes me really fucking happy. When you’re with me, it feels like it almost completely erases everything that happened between me and Craig. And that’s pretty damn impressive, Kellin. That history isn’t something that gets erased too easily.”  
  
I can’t help but smile a little when he says that I make him happy. I never thought anyone would be able to say that about me.  
  
"It’s okay," I say, pressing my body even closer to his. "It’s okay, I promise." Then I realize what I just said, and I start laughing, feeling my face heat up. "I didn’t mean to make that reference, I swear!"  
  
Vic starts laughing, too. “My Chemical Romance. Finally, something that’s _not_  Fall Out Boy.”  
  
"But still incredibly emo," I point out.  
  
And then we’re both laughing even harder, letting go of the seriousness of the past few minutes. I laugh so hard my chest starts to hurt, and then Vic says, “Why is this so funny?”  
  
(Which, of course, just makes us laugh even harder.)  
  
By the time we calm down, I’m wiping an actual tear from my eye. “Wow. I can’t even remember the last time I laughed that hard.”  
  
"Way to ruin the moment with your unintentional song references," he teases.  
  
I smack his arm. “I was just trying to make you feel better, dickwad!”  
  
"Well, it did," he says, kissing me on the cheek. "You’re adorable."  
  
"Am not," I say, probably blushing.  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"I beg to differ." Without warning, he kisses me again, this time on the lips. It starts out short and sweet, but then I pull him in a little bit more, and he eagerly takes control, pushing me down onto the bed and climbing on top of me.  
  
"I don’t see how this proves that I’m adorable," I say, slightly breaking the kiss.  
  
He smiles down at me, his hair falling into our faces. “Maybe it doesn’t to you,” he says, his tongue dancing across my lips. “But  _I_  think you’re adorable.”  
  
He bites on my bottom lip and rolls his hips down against mine, causing me to let out a little moan. He laughs seductively. “I also think you’re really fucking hot,” he says, letting his hands roam underneath my shirt.  
  
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I whisper, reveling in his words, in his touch, in him.  
  
He pulls my shirt completely off of me, throwing it to the floor as he admires my half-naked body. “Well, then,” he says, kissing my collarbone, “I guess I’ll have to show you.”  
  
My breath hitches. Involuntarily, I blurt, “Oh my God, please.”  
  
He smirks. “Excited, are you?”  
  
I nod, reaching up and undoing the buttons on his shirt. “Mm-hmm,” I breathe. “Very.”  
  
He lightly kisses my jawline as I help him pull his shirt off and toss it to the floor. “Dirty Kellin,” he teases, kissing down my chest and resting a hand on my crotch.  
  
I’m already turned on from the kissing, and him starting to palm me through the tight material of my pants is just making me even harder. It’s so slow and soft, but it’s still there, and that makes it even worse. “Ugh,” I sigh. “More.”  
  
Vic just smirks at me before undoing my jeans and pulling them down, touching my member again through just my boxers. Then he pulls the boxers off as well, causing me to let out a small noise of relief. He follows the boxers with the rest of his clothes, climbing back on top of me and rocking his hips, both of us kissing and moaning into it when our exposed erections rub against each other.  
  
"Why do you like to tease me?" I whine, disconnecting our lips for a short moment. "What did I ever do to you?"  
  
He bites at my neck. “It’ll all be worth it, baby.”  
  
I moan, feeling myself lose control as his lips mark my skin yet again. “Yes…”  
  
Suddenly, he climbs off of me, causing me to let out an unintentional whimpering sound. He reaches across the bed and grabs the lube out of the drawer, coating his fingers with it. He lifts my ass up a little, and I tense only slightly when he pushes one finger in. He moves it slowly in and out, picking up his pace when he enters another one. It feels good, but I need more, and I need it now.  
  
"Please," I beg. "You know I’m ready."  
  
Vic pulls his fingers back out, smirking. “Do you know how much I love this other side of you?” he asks as he takes a condom out of the drawer, opens it, rolls it on, and then lubes himself up.  
  
I take a deep breath, my dick throbbing. I need him. “H-how much?”  
  
I wrap my legs around his waist as he lines himself up. Then he slowly pushes himself into me, both of us letting out moans of satisfaction. Once he’s in, he leans over and gazes at me, his smirk widening. “A lot.”  
  
With that, he pulls out, thrusting back in quickly and roughly. “Yes,” I sigh, moving my hips with his and pulling him in by his neck to kiss him. He kisses me back, hot and messy, as he moves in and out of me.  
  
I’m about to ask him to go faster, but I think he can already tell that that’s what I want. Just as I’m picking up the pace with the way I’m bucking my hips up, he shifts a little and slams into me, letting out small groans as I cry out softly. Fuck, he’s good at this.  
  
He pushes me down onto the bed and pins me there, changing his angle and hitting me right where I need him to. I throw my head back and moan loudly, getting no time to recover before he repeats his movements, and I moan louder. “Oh my—f- _fuck_.”  
  
Vic grabs my hair and pulls it, pushing my head to the side so he can suck on my neck. His moans make his lips vibrate on my skin as he pounds into me, and I gasp a few times, letting him have his way with me. With the added attention he’s giving to my neck, I feel that familiar sensation start to rise in me.  
  
Vic must be able to tell by the whimpering noises I make, because he stops kissing my neck. “Absolutely…not,” he pants, slowing down considerably and pinning my hands to the bed so that I can’t move them. “Not yet.”  
  
My eyes flutter open and closed as I squeeze one of his hands in vain. “Vic,” I whine, “baby, p-please…”  
  
He shakes his head and smiles innocently, stopping almost completely—the fucking tease. But I can see him breathing heavily; he’s turned on, too. I can still have power.  
  
I lift my ass up and press down on his member, pushing myself farther and angling myself differently so that his agonizingly slow thrusts go deeper than he expected. He groans, then stops moving completely, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Whatcha gonna do now?” he asks breathlessly.  
  
"I know what I’m gonna do," I reply. With that, I take advantage of his loosened grip on me and break free of it, pushing him and flipping us over so that I’m riding him.  
  
Grabbing both his hands again, I bounce up and down quickly, feeling satisfied when he lets out a moan and starts moving underneath me, kissing my lips and pushing himself in deeper so my gasps flow into his mouth. Then he lets go of my hands and grabs my hips, steadying me on top of him and forcing me to slow down.  
  
I break off the kiss, trying not to fall apart at his touch, at being so close yet so far. “Why,” I pant, “do you keep doing this?”  
  
"I thought…it’d be interesting," he replies, sweat dripping off his hair.  
  
I want him fully inside me so badly, and my dick has a desperate need to be touched. I rotate my hips on top of him, causing him to moan again and loosen his grip on me. I can feel him giving up, instead rocking his hips with mine and moaning with me every time I go back down. I’m not gonna last long now.  
  
Sure enough, I find myself faltering, my breathing getting labored as I push myself faster. It feels so fucking good, but it’s not quite enough…  
  
I can hear Vic getting close, too, and I move even faster, wanting him to feel good, wanting him to moan for me. He bobs me up and down, and after a few more seconds, I can feel him shaking beneath me, releasing himself. “K-Kellin,” he gasps, “oh my God, fuck, Kell,  _fuck_.”  
  
As he’s coming down, he takes ahold of my shaft and flicks his wrist, moving it up and down. My gasps get caught in my throat as he keeps moving for me, and when he brushes his thumb across my tip, that’s it; I’m done, burying my face into his shoulder and moaning over and over as I’m overcome by euphoria.  
  
After a few moments, I climb off of him and lie back down on the bed. We’re both hot, but I still find myself resting against his chest, and he still wraps his arms around me. “God,” I say as I’m catching my breath. “I will never get tired of that.”  
  
He shakes his head, smiling at me. “Me neither.” Then, after a few seconds, he softly kisses me on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispers. “Do you know that? I love you.”  
  
I smile widely, feeling as if weight is lifting off of my shoulders, off of my chest. I can’t believe he’s saying it.  
  
"I love you, too," I whisper back, and this time, the words don’t scare me.  
  
—  
  
"Want to go on a morning walk with me?"  
  
I smile and rub my eyes, lightly pushing Vic away. “Damn, what time even is it?”  
  
"Five something. The sun’s still rising. Come on, please?"  
  
I laugh at his excitement. The dominating Vic from last night is gone, replaced by the sweet, childish, affectionate one. I love it.  
  
"Mayyyyybe," I say, drawing out the word.  
  
"If you won’t, then I’ll just have to kidnap you." With that, he picks me up bridal style out of the covers, which is the moment that I think we both realize: I’m still naked.  
  
"Y’know," he adds, "after you get some clothes on." He drops me back onto the bed, wrinkling his nose and pretending to be disgusted.  
  
I roll my eyes jokingly and grab my clothes off of the floor. “As if you’ve never seen me naked before,” I say as I get dressed.  
  
He sticks his tongue out at me. “Just come on, baby,” he says, and I’d tease him back if I weren’t too hung up on him calling me “baby”. He’s been doing it quite a lot recently, along with “darling”, but neither of those words have lost their effect on me yet.  
  
Vic takes my hand and leads me outside, falling into step beside me as we make our way through the neighborhood, our fingers laced together. I’ll admit, the sunrise does look pretty damn beautiful—I hardly ever get to see it—but even so, I can’t tear my gaze off of Vic, who looks for all the world like he’s got his own rays of light. It feels like he can’t even be real.  
  
_I guess I’m dreaming again…_  
  
It’s an interesting thought to pop into my head. It makes me think of Vic holding up the dream catcher on the beach. It makes me think of that night, when I thought that it felt like I’d woken up from a blissful dream into harsh reality. And now things are okay, and it feels like I’m dreaming, because things are never okay for me.  
  
As if on cue, we pass Craig’s house, Vic stopping at the sight of two people on the front porch. “Oh, yeah,” he whispers, his voice sounding uncharacteristically lifeless. “Craig’s a morning person, too, isn’t he?”  
  
It’s Craig and his new boyfriend, making out like there’s no tomorrow. They probably don’t know that we’re standing right in front of the house; in fact, they probably wouldn’t notice if it all burned down. Then again, that’s probably what Vic and I look like, too.  
  
"Let’s go," I say softly, pulling him forward, and he nods, following me. His expression seems to be filled with guilt as he stares at me, as if he hates himself for letting Craig affect him.  
  
And Craig does affect him—I can tell by the distinct change in the way he acts. He’s distant, absent, barely talking and looking as if he’s in a daze. When he does talk, his voice is noticeably quieter with a lot less life in it.  
  
I don’t blame him, really. I mean, he and Craig dated for eight months and only just broke up. I’ve known him for barely a month. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt—in more ways than one—to see him so easily upset.  
  
It doesn’t seem to go away, though. He’s like this for the entire day, drifting through it like he’s not even really living because he’s so distracted and lost in his thoughts. I know that he’s just having a bad day, that it’s hard to get over someone when you’re seeing them all the time doing things like that, but I can’t help but start to think that maybe it’s my fault, too. I mean, if I was good enough, wouldn’t he be okay seeing his ex with someone else?  
  
I know these insecure thoughts are crazy, but I can’t seem to stop them, and suddenly I realize what Vic meant when he said he couldn’t sleep because his mind wouldn’t shut up. Minds are an annoying thing sometimes.  
  
So now the sun is setting, and I’m sitting out on the front porch swing again, hating myself for the stupid fucking tears that once again threaten to spill over. This is what he does to me. He makes me feel things, and I’ve been numb for so long that I don’t know how to deal with all of it. Maybe it’s  _because_  I’ve been numb for so long. Maybe all the emotions I haven’t been feeling are just flooding out of me now that I’ve opened up.  
  
Suddenly, I hear the front door open, and then Vic comes out. “Kellin,” he says, concern in his voice when he sees the expression on my face. “What’s wrong?”  
  
I shake my head as he sits down next to me. “Nothing,” I say softly, biting my lip and blinking quickly. “Nothing…”  
  
He moves closer and puts an arm around me. He doesn’t ask me to talk about it. He just runs his fingers through my hair, letting me bury my face in his shoulder.  
  
"I’m sorry," I whisper. "That you have to deal with me."  
  
"Don’t be." He kisses my forehead. "I love dealing with you."  
  
I smile at that, but the moment of happiness is fleeting.  
  
"Really," Vic continues. "If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing."  
  
I just rest in his arms, letting the comfort of his touch calm me down. The insecure thoughts are still there, but they’re not as prevalent, defeated by his hands lightly drawing patterns on my skin and his soft breathing right next to my ear.  
  
"It’s okay," I find myself saying. "Y’know, that you’re so hung up over this."  
  
"No, it’s not," he replies. "I need to get over it."  
  
I shrug. “Everyone has their rough days.”  
  
And I know it’s true when I say it.


	20. End of the Dream

“It’s not too late for us, then?” I ask, my head on Vic’s shoulder as he plays with my hair.  
  
Vic shakes his head. “Of course not. I’ll never believe in that.”  
  
I lift my head up. “Believe in what?”  
  
"In ‘too late’. I’ll never believe in ‘too late’. I mean, I’ve been through some rough patches, but…" He shrugs. “‘Too late’. It sounds so final. That’s the line I’ll never cross. It’s never too late."  
  
I just stare at him, amazed at how strong and determined he is. This is the guy who told me he wanted to die. This is the guy who never seems to be able to sleep. This is the guy who feels like he cares too much, like he lets his emotions control him. And he’s telling me that it’s never too late.  
  
"You’re incredible," I breathe without meaning to.  
  
Vic just stares back at me, looking pleasantly surprised. “Not nearly as incredible as you,” he replies, kissing me softly.  
  
—  
  
Shortly after that, Mike and Tony come over, and the five of us head off to another party. Vic holds my hand the entire drive, as if to reaffirm that I’m his and he’s mine.  
  
This house is a bit smaller than the last one, but the atmosphere is similar. Lights, music, alcohol, people. Vic kisses me on the cheek before we head inside—ignoring the teasing of Jaime, Tony, and Mike—and I can’t help but smile. Everything is going to be okay.  
  
We end up getting drinks in the kitchen first, both of us leaning against the bar and just talking, talking about everything and nothing, talking about things like the trip that brought us together and the distance that threatens to tear us apart. We laugh as we talk about those crazy fucking clues, and Vic comforts me when I start to worry about the future. It’s nice to just talk with him. He’s such an interesting person to talk to.  
  
I smile as that thought crosses my mind. That’s the same thought that seemed to signal the beginning of something, back when we were driving to Vegas. When we talked, that was my thought process—that he was just so incredibly and unbelievably interesting. And now here I am, a month later, dating him and still thinking that exact same thing.  
  
"Let’s go out into the living room," he says eventually, taking my hand and leading me out. Most of the furniture is back against the wall, but there’s someone sitting on the couch, so we decide to go over and sit down, too, Vic on one end and me in between him and the other guy.  
  
"Hey, remember when you and I first met?" Vic asks, smiling as he plays with my fingers.  
  
I smile back at him. “Of course I do. You were playing a song.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “And I liked it.”  
  
He smiles even wider at that. “You liked it,” he says. “Some random guy liked my music, and he became my boyfriend. Wow.” He looks over at me and kisses me on the nose. “What made you decide to come over to me anyways?”  
  
I shrug, reaching up and running my fingers through his hair. “I liked the song. And you were hot. I like hot people who make good music. And I wanted to tell you that it was good, because nobody else was paying any attention to you. And…I don’t know. You just seemed nice. You seemed like someone I could be friends with. Oh, and your voice was perfect. Still is.”  
  
He giggles like a little child, his face starting to get red. “That’s…wow.”  
  
Before either of us can say anything else, a rude, familiar voice interrupts us: “Hey, Vic, do you think you could get me a bottle of vodka?”  
  
Craig. Of course.  
  
Vic glances at me, squeezing my hand. “I swear,” he whispers, “I didn’t think he was gonna be here.” Then he turns to Craig, his expression hardening. “What? Sorry, I can’t hear ya. The music’s too loud.”  
  
I’m about to laugh, but then Craig grabs Vic by the hair and roughly pulls him up from the couch. “I need some vodka, honey. Now.”  
  
Vic looks back at me, biting his lip. Then he switches his gaze to Craig and nods silently. Craig lets go of him, and with a deep breath, Vic turns around and rushes back to the kitchen.  
  
I narrow my eyes at Craig. “What the hell was that about?”  
  
He shrugs. “Needed vodka. And Vic always does what I tell him to, no matter what I do to him.”  
  
I clench my fists but don’t say anything else. No doubt I’m pissed, because _fuck_ —I’ve never seen Vic submit to someone the way he just submitted to Craig. And the way Craig grabbed him, like he was just a toy that could be tossed around…Vic’s not a toy, and he’s not a slave, either.  
  
"He’s gonna fuck you up."  
  
The voice comes from my right, and I turn to see the other guy on the couch staring at me with pity. He’s got an empty bottle of something in his hand, and he looks really drunk.  
  
"What?" I say.  
  
"He’s gonna fuck you up," the guy repeats. "That guy who just left. That pretty boyfriend of yours." He shakes his head. "He’s gonna fuck you up and you’re gonna let him."  
  
The words bounce around in my head, but I try not to dwell on them too much. “How do you know?”  
  
The guy shakes his head again. “I can see it. The way the whole thing’s gonna play out.” Then he turns away.  
  
Before I have a chance to think too much about what that guy just said, Vic returns with a bottle of vodka and hands it to Craig. “Here you go,” he says quietly, ducking his head and sitting back down next to me.  
  
Craig gives him a smug smile, turning around and walking away without so much as a “thank you”. I look over at Vic, who seems to have shut himself out, his eyes glazed over as he stares off into space.  
  
I nudge him. “Hey,” I say softly. “You alright?”  
  
He blinks a few times, turning to me. “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just…” He shrugs. “I never expected him to treat me like that again.”  
  
"Why’d you let him boss you around like that?" I ask.  
  
He bites his lip. “I don’t know, really. Force of habit, maybe. I guess I just wanted him out of my hair as soon as possible, and I knew he was gonna keep bothering me until I turned back into his personal slave. He used to do this a lot. And I always complied, every single time, because I wanted to make him happy.”  
  
"He can’t just drop you like you’re nothing and then come back and expect you to act like nothing happened."  
  
"He already has."  
  
At that moment, Craig walks back into the room, laughing and talking with somebody. I know he’s going to at least glance over at us, so when he inevitably does, I make my move, turning and kissing Vic roughly.  
  
After a moment of surprise, Vic kisses back the same way, pulling me in by my shirt and shifting me so that I end up on his lap. His hands slide underneath my shirt, and neither of us care who sees, because this is a party and these things happen all the time. So long as Craig sees—and I know he does—nothing else matters.  
  
I’ll admit that the only reason I kissed Vic was to show him off—specifically, to show him off to Craig. I’m not letting him take over. I’m Vic’s boyfriend, and he better damn well understand that.  
  
Vic breaks the kiss. “We should…” He lightly touches my hips. “We should go upstairs.”  
  
I smile at that. I don’t know what we’ll do up there, whether we’ll end up having sex or just kissing and talking and telling each other sweet nothings, but whatever it happens, it’s a hell of a lot better than letting some manipulative bastard ruin our fun.  
  
I climb off of him and let him lead me upstairs to the nearest bedroom. Surprisingly, it’s open, so we rush inside, closing and locking the door behind us. Then Vic pushes me up against it, attacking my lips with his, and I’m more than happy to kiss him back just as readily.  
  
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in even closer, letting him slide his tongue into my mouth as he touches me all over. We’re at least somewhat intoxicated, but I don’t care, and I don’t think Vic does either, judging by the soft gasps flowing from his mouth to mine.  
  
I run my fingers through his hair, sighing into his mouth. “This,” I say breathlessly, my lips still right against his, “is much better.”  
  
"I agree," he replies, kissing me again.  
  
We’d probably go further, but a knock on the door cuts us off, forcing us to pull away from each other. “Yes?” Vic calls.  
  
"Vic," Craig says from the other side. "Could you open the door for a sec?"  
  
Vic takes my hand and squeezes it, biting his lip. “Um…”  
  
"Open the door," I tell him. "I wanna hear what this asshole has to say."  
  
He glances at me, seeming unsure, before unlocking the door and opening it. “Uh, okay.”  
  
Craig looks us both up and down, folding his arms over his chest and letting his gaze linger on Vic. “Vic,” he says, “could you do me a favor and come over to this other room with me? I’ve got something to show you.”  
  
 _By “something”, do you mean your dick? You’re gonna need a magnifying glass for that operation._  
  
I don’t know where the thought comes from, but I’m not used to it. I’m not used to being defensive or confrontational. I don’t know if I like it or not, but I’ll admit—that was a damn good comeback.  
  
"Um," Vic stammers, that nervous look back on his face. "I, uh—I don’t know if…um…"  
  
Craig steps forward, smoothly pushing me away and standing right in front of Vic. “Vic, honey, come on.”  
  
That does it for me.  
  
"No."  
  
Then there’s the sound of a fist hitting someone in the jaw, and I realize after a moment that it was  _my_  fist, hitting Craig’s jaw.  
  
He holds it in shock, taking a step backward and glaring at me. “You’re gonna regret doing that, you little bitch.”  
  
And here’s the thing: I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid of so many things, but I’m not afraid of him. Vic is mine, dammit, and I’d never use him the way Craig does.  
  
So I look him right in the eyes, and I say, “Give me your best shot.”  
  
He lunges for me, punching me square in the nose. It hurts, but I don’t back down, instead stepping up again and punching him back. There’s a satisfying cracking sound, and for a brief moment, I can’t help but bask in the glory a little.  
  
But then Vic’s jumping in between us, grabbing my arm and pushing me away, seeming frantic. “Wait, don’t!”  
  
Craig and I both stop, looking at Vic. Craig’s got a faint smirk on his face, and after a few seconds, I realize that it’s because Vic is talking to  _me_. He’s telling  _me_  to stop.  
  
"What—I—Vic, what are you—" I stutter, just trying to figure out what’s going on in his head.  
  
"Kellin, don’t," he says, eyes wide and wild. He turns around to face Craig. "Craig, please…"  
  
"What is it, baby?" Craig asks calmly, smiling and giving me a look that says,  _I win._  
  
Vic’s eyes turn even wider, breath catching as if he’s just had a great revelation. “I don’t…I can’t…I…” He shakes his head, looking so drunk and upset and confused, and it hurts to watch.  
  
"Vic," I say softly, "what are you thinking?"  
  
He turns to me, stepping forward and sweeping me into a kiss unlike any other that we’ve ever shared, which is saying something. It’s a kiss full of so much emotion that I can’t even begin to decipher it all, and he has never felt as much like a hurricane as he feels in this moment.  
  
When he finally pulls away, I notice the tears streaming down his face. “I think this is our last kiss,” he says, voice cracking. He ducks his head, hiding behind some of his hair. “This…this is our last fucking kiss.”  
  
His words send my heart into a frenzy. “Whoa, hold on,” I say quickly, lifting my hand up and resting it on his cheek. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Vic shakes his head again and lightly pushes me away, turning around and rushing out of the room, leaving both me and Craig to stare at each other wondering what the fuck just happened.  
  
"Vic!" I yell, running out and chasing after him. I don’t know if Craig is following me, but at this point, I really don’t care. I just want to find Vic.  
  
I end up searching everywhere, but even after I ask his friends to help, none of us has any luck. That damn Olympic runner.  
  
"May I ask what happened, exactly?" Tony asks as we’re standing around together in a corner of one room.  
  
"It was just…shit happened," I say. "I don’t even know half of what went on. I just know he was upset about something."  
  
"It had something to do with Craig," Jaime says slowly, "didn’t it?"  
  
I nod, thinking back to the scene. Just like that, a fun night has turned into something dark and painful and frightening, and I can’t help but feel like something is changing.


	21. Traveled All These Miles Just to Get Back Home

Vic ends up at his house, having not crashed the car or anything of that nature. When I find him, he’s already asleep in his bed, expression deceivingly peaceful as his chest rises and falls. For a brief moment, I smile at the sight of it, before realizing that it’s a lie. Beneath that calm demeanor is a storm raging inside of him.  
  
I crawl underneath the covers, resting my head against his chest, just thankful that he’s okay. Physically, at least.  
  
For a while, I just lie awake, thinking about what happened, about Craig, about “our last kiss”. It all swirls around in my head, but eventually, my eyelids start to feel heavy, and I find myself falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.  
  
—  
  
Vic is different in the morning, dazed and lifeless and seeming to be thinking so deeply about something that he’s disconnected from the rest of the world. I’m not surprised; after a night like that, who’d just get over it?  
  
That doesn’t stop me from worrying, though. Of course I’m worried. I just want him to be happy, and I want to be the one to make him happy. But I don’t know how to do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.  
  
He doesn’t really talk to me, and I try to hold back my questions. He made it clear last night that he feels he needs to figure this out on his own, so I’m trying to let him do that. But it’s so hard to watch him and not at least try to help.  
  
At one point, at around almost noon, Vic pulls Jaime into the room next to Vic’s, saying that he needs to talk with him about something. On the one hand, I’m kind of upset that he didn’t turn to me—I’m probably involved in this somehow, judging by the things he did and said last night, and I start to worry that maybe he doesn’t trust me, though I’m not sure why he’d feel that way. But on the other hand, I kind of understand—Jaime is Vic’s best friend, and he’s known him a hell of a lot longer than he’s known me. I know I’d turn to Matty if I were having some issue with Vic and needed to talk it out with someone.  
  
Still, I can’t help but catch bits and pieces of their conversation as I’m sitting on Vic’s bed in his room, mostly just thinking and twiddling my thumbs. I catch Vic saying things like “I’m so confused, Jaime” and “I don’t know anything anymore,” things like “I hate myself so fucking much” and “Why does it have to be so fucking hard?”  
  
And even though I don’t know why he’s saying these things, listening to him say them gives me a physical pain in my chest. I just want him to be okay.  
  
I lie down on my stomach on his bed, resting my head in my folded arms and closing my eyes. I’m not trying to fall asleep; I’m just resting, giving myself a little break from all the tension of the day. It doesn’t work as well as I hoped it would, but it still works somewhat, so I stay that way for a little while.  
  
Finally, Vic comes into the room and closes the door behind him, standing at the edge of the bed and staring at me. I look up at him, sleepily blinking a few times and rubbing my eyes—I’ll admit, I  _have_  been getting tired as I’ve been lying here.  
  
For whatever reason, the movement causes Vic’s breath to hitch ever so slightly as he watches me, some emotion I can’t figure out shining in his eyes. “We need to talk about something,” he says finally.  
  
I sit up immediately, nodding. “Sure,” I say quickly. “You can tell me anything.”  
  
For a moment, Vic just keeps staring at me. Then he covers his face with his hands, lightly rubbing at his eyes, before looking back at me and saying, “Kellin…I don’t think I ever really loved you.”  
  
The words, once they sink in, hit me like a train barreling down a railroad track.  
  
"You…what?" I say weakly, my voice soft and shaking and scared all of a sudden, because  _no_ , this can’t be happening.  
  
"I…I realized it last night," Vic says. "Kellin, Craig broke up with me a week before I met you. I was nowhere near over him. So when I found you…I guess I just thought…" His own voice is wavering as he continues on. "I think I tried to replace him with you. I think I…" A silent tear slips out, sliding down his cheek. "I’ve been using you. Without even fucking realizing it."  
  
 _This can’t be happening._  
  
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.  
  
"And—and I like you," he continues. "I really do. But I don’t think I love you like I thought I did. While we were alone on that road trip, I took everything I felt for Craig and just threw it all at you. And that’s—that’s why I freak out every single fucking time I see him. Because I still want him, and I hate myself for it, but—but I can’t change it."  
  
I try to grasp his words, try to make sense of what he’s saying to me, but it all feels so unreal that the best reaction I can come up with is a simple, heartbroken “You don’t love me?”  
  
He shakes his head, taking a step closer as I sit on the bed with my shaking hands clasped together in my lap. “Kellin, I’m so sorry,” he says, tilting my head up and forcing me to look into his watery eyes. I squeeze my own eyes shut and turn my head to the side.  
  
"I never meant for any of this to happen, I swear to God," he says softly, voice cracking. "I didn’t…I didn’t  _think_. I never fucking think. I liked you. I thought you could help me get over him. I was so fucking stupid.”  
  
I try so fucking hard to hold them back, but finally I open my eyes and let the tears inevitably blur my vision. I can’t look at him, can’t do anything but think about how I’m not enough, how I never was.  
  
"You’re breaking up with me," I say. I don’t even have to ask, because I already know it’s true. Of course it is. Of course this has to happen.  
  
He nods, sitting down next to me on the bed and watching me. I watch him back, trying not to show just how much the world feels like it has collapsed around me. I take deep breaths, blinking a lot as more hot tears roll down my cheeks. My hands are still in my lap, and I’m squeezing one with the other, biting my lip and releasing a series of wet, held-back sobs. “Vic,” I choke out.  
  
Vic puts an arm around me, and I gladly lean into him and bury my face in his shoulder, not caring that he’s the reason I’m crying in the first place, not caring that after today I won’t have this shoulder to cry on, figuratively or literally.  
  
"You s-said you loved m-me," I stammer out, gripping his shirt and feeling the warmth of his body, breathing in his scent because I know this is the last time I’ll ever smell it.  
  
I feel him nod as he rubs my back in those comforting slow circles. “I know,” he whispers. “I know I did, darling.”  
  
And that word—that stupid, wonderful, absolutely heart-wrenching word—breaks me down even more, ruthlessly beating more sobs out of me, pouring salt into the already lethal wound. I can feel it fucking me up, injecting itself right into my bloodstream and poisoning me with it. I can feel it making a home inside my heart.  
  
"You lied," I say. "You told me you loved me and you lied to me.”  
  
"I didn’t mean to," he says. "I believed it when I said it."  
  
"Keep believing it," I beg, though I know it’s a lost cause. I get the courage to look up at him, and through my tears I see that he’s still crying, too. "You don’t love me," I say. "Why are you crying?"  
  
He rests his head on my shoulder. “Because I’m sorry,” he chokes out, holding me tighter. “I don’t like to see you hurt, and I’m—I’m so sorry that I’m doing this, b-but it’s for the best if you just…just go back home and forget I ever existed. Forget everything. Let me go and never look back. I’ve been in love with someone else and I can’t keep doing this knowing that. I can’t lead you on like that.”  
  
"I don’t want to forget you," I say softly, nearly shaking against him. "I want to…I want to stay. With you." But we both know that that can’t happen.  
  
"Somebody didn’t put you up to this, did they?" I ask suddenly, trying to go through any possible options.  
  
He shakes his head. “No, baby, it’s all me. I’m sorry.”  
  
"S-should I go home now?" I say, wiping at my cheeks as I start to slow down.  
  
He nods, eyes shining with those soft, silent tears. “I think it’d be for the best.” He reaches up and brushes a few of my own tears away.  
  
 _He’s gonna fuck you up and you’re gonna let him._  The words pop into my head without warning, causing me to bury my head back in Vic’s shoulder and cry a little bit more. The guy was right when he said that about Vic. He was drunk as hell and didn’t even know us, but he was  _right_.  
  
"He’s gonna fuck you up," I sob, repeating the guy’s words to Vic. "Craig. He’s gonna fuck you up and you’re gonna let him."  
  
Vic’s breath hitches at that. “I know,” he says softly, and that hurts like my heart’s being ripped out of my chest. “I know.”  
  
After a few moments, I look back up at him, letting him brush away my tears again. We just stare at each other as he holds me in his arms, but it feels like it’s only for my benefit. It feels like he could let go of me whenever he wants. I’m surprised, then, when I shift slightly and his arms tighten around me.  
  
"I’m sorry," he says. "I just…it’s hard to say goodbye."  
  
"Then don’t do it," I plead. "I’ll sacrifice Craig to the Devil or something. We’ll pretend he never even existed."  
  
He laughs weakly, running a hand through my hair one last time, and then he lets go of me. I stand up shakily, unbelievingly. “So,” I say slowly, “I’d better…pack my things, I guess.”  
  
Vic nods, still staring at me through those tearstained eyelashes. “Mm-hmm.”  
  
I grab my shit mechanically, my mind trying to catch up to what just happened, trying to let the reality sink in: Vic has broken up with me. Vic doesn’t love me like I thought he did, like  _he_  thought he did. I’m leaving now, and I’ll never see him again.  
  
"Okay," I say finally, when my suitcase is completely packed and I’m ready to go. "I guess I’ll just—"  
  
"Wait," Vic says suddenly. In a flash, he’s grabbed the dream catcher from where it’s been hanging and is holding it out to me. "Take it."  
  
I shake my head, not wanting anything that would remind me of him, but before I have a chance to say anything, he says, “Please. I know it’s just a dumb little thing and it probably doesn’t actually work, but…it  _is_  yours, technically. And you need it a hell of a lot more than I do.”  
  
I take a deep breath and take it from him. “So,” I say quietly, “I guess…this is the end of us.”  
  
He nods, biting his lip. “We had a pretty decent run, I think.” After a long pause, consisting of us both just staring at each other, he quirks a sad little smile and adds, “Good luck, Kells. Y’know, with that existential crisis thing you told me about in Vegas.” His voice cracks. “I hope you find something to live for.”  
  
I hate him so much in that moment, and it’s mostly because I don’t think I hate him at all. I just hate what he’s doing to me. I hate that it’s not working out, because of course it wouldn’t. It never does.  
  
A voice inside my head is screaming,  _If you don’t love me, then why is it so hard to break up with me? Why did you hold me so tightly? Why did you cry? Why do you care about what happens to me?_  
  
But I think Vic sees those questions in my expression without even needing me to open my mouth, because then he says, “I want you to stay, but I’d hate myself so fucking much if you did because I’d know that I don’t care about you like I care about him; I’ve just been thinking that I do, and I don’t want to lie to you and make it seem like you’d never be competing with anyone else because there’s still that part of me that wants him, and you deserve better than someone who isn’t loyal, and you deserve better than someone who still loves someone else instead of you or more than you, and…” He trails off there, wiping away one more stray tear. “And so this is the end of us.”  
  
I just look at him for a few moments, taking him in, because this is the last time I’ll ever see him. Then I step forward and pull him in, kissing him sadly and softly, a kiss that signifies an ending. When I pull away, I say, “ _This_  is our last kiss.”  
  
We both just look at each other some more, until finally, I add, “I hope your music changes someone’s life the way it changed mine. But with a happier ending.”  
  
And then I turn around and walk out of the doorway, down the stairs, out of the house, out of his life.  
  
I hop into my car with a strange feeling inside of me, but it seems to fade at first because I have to focus on navigating through traffic. It’s not until I’m actually on the highway and headed back to Oregon that everything starts to catch up with me.  
  
Vic just broke up with me. I will never see him or speak to him ever again.  
  
You’d think that thirteen hours driving alone would be enough time to get over it, at least somewhat. And you’d be wrong.  
  
My grip on the wheel is tense, even more tears blurring my vision as I try to drive and not crash. Everything seems to flash before my eyes like a movie, everything from the moment we met to the scene I just experienced back at his house. In my mind, I’m seeing the look of concentration on his face when he plays his guitar, seeing the wonder in his eyes as they reflect the city lights that shine at him and seem to shine just for him. I’m hearing his beautiful laugh and smelling his skin, the scent I’ve memorized. I’m tasting his tongue in my mouth as it plays with mine, and I’m feeling his lips as they trail all over my body. I’m remembering the jokes, the conversations, the kisses, the tears, the clues, the secrets. Every single fucking thing.  
  
By now, I’ve realized that the reason I felt like something was changing last night is because last night signified that I was about to wake up, that the dream was soon over. And now here it is, the end, the sudden waking up that leaves me disoriented.  
  
And it’s all my fault, too, isn’t it?  
  
Of course it is, because it always is. I hate myself as the thought crosses my mind, hate myself for needing something to do, hate myself for wanting this. It’s my wanderlust that led me here, and now I’m crying again as I drive back home, thinking of how fucked up everything has turned out, thinking of how it’s happening to me all over again, just like I said it would, just like I was afraid it would.  
  
 _Vic._  His name pounds in my head, as if it’s tattooing itself onto my brain. _Vic. Vic. Vic._  
  
I can feel something changing inside of me as I let it all out. I hate myself for crying, and in a quick moment, I’ve decided that I never want to feel this weak ever again. I can’t help but think back to what I felt last night: anger. It made me, for once, feel powerful. It made me feel like I could do some damage, instead of everything else damaging me. Yes, that’s a feeling I could get used to.  
  
By the time I’m back in Oregon, it’s dark outside and raining heavily, and I’m trying not to think too much about all the times Vic and I have driven at night. It’s not working, though, because I can’t help but feel like Vic should be the one in the driver’s seat, not me. It feels wrong, and when I remember that Vic isn’t even here to take my place, tears threaten to make an appearance yet again. At this moment, I make a promise to myself: a promise to not take a drive past dusk unless I absolutely have to, at least for a little while.  
  
The rain comes down even harder the closer I get, mirroring my emotions as they start to build up. I’m coming home. I’m coming home, and I’m going to sleep alone in my bed, and I’m going to wake up tomorrow like I never even left. How am I supposed to just go on with my life like nothing happened? How am I supposed to go back to the pathetic life that led me to this point in the first place? How the hell am I supposed to act like my world didn’t just get turned upside down on this crazy vacation?  
  
"Hey, Matty," I say into my phone when I’m ten minutes away. I’m leaving a voicemail for him. "I know it’s late, but can you come over? Please? I’m almost home. Something happened."  
  
I don’t expect him to actually come, but sure enough, his car is in the driveway when I park at my house, and there’s a light on in the living room. I still haven’t gotten a chance to ask him about what happened after the fire, where he’s living, how bad the damage was…but right now is not the time, because I am home, and Vic is gone, and I’ll never see him again, and outside there is thunder and lightning and buckets of rain, and I’m stepping outside into all of it.  
  
I can barely make my legs move as I force myself to take a few steps forward, eventually stopping in the middle of my front yard and sinking down to the ground. The rain crashes over me as I cover my face in my hands and sob for all it’s worth. My head is spinning and my chest hurts and I feel like I’m going to throw up, but I just keep on crying, letting my body get soaked and cold. This is the last time I cry like this.  
  
In the background, there’s the faint sound of a door slamming open, and a few seconds later, I hear Matty’s voice as he kneels down in front of me. “Hey.” He pulls my hands away from my face. “Kellin. What’s wrong?”  
  
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I—I—”  
  
He hugs me then, not seeming to care that he’s getting wet. It reminds me of that night in Baltimore when I got the news that he might die, and the memory just makes me cry harder. It feels like Vic has imbedded himself into my chest, into my heart, and now he’s gone and pulled himself out, and it’s leaving me bleeding to death.  
  
"Th-thank you," I choke out, burying my face in Matty’s shoulder. I’m not just thanking him for tonight; I’m thanking him for everything. I’m thanking him for being my best friend.  
  
"Kellin," he says softly, "what happened?"  
  
"I…" And that’s when I realize the horrible irony of what I’m about to say. "I…I met a guy."  _And he was a hurricane._  
  
But the thing about hurricanes—the thing I never realized before—is that they don’t last forever, and when they’re gone, they leave something behind. They leave behind destruction, absolute devastation, and it looks like Vic Fuentes was no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now before you all murder me, I have an announcement to make: There is a sequel.
> 
> This fic was already written, and so are the first few chapters of this sequel (titled "Cataclysm"), so I've been posting this all at once. However, as the sequel is not finished, once I've posted it you'll have to deal with my shitty updating because I'll be all caught up with the fics I've already posted on other websites.
> 
> But yeah. This is not the end. I’ll see you all soon. Thanks for reading this fic.


End file.
